


His First Mistake

by Aphelionite



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance, student/professor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-20 14:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1514018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aphelionite/pseuds/Aphelionite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minerva McGonagall is a girl who knows what she wants, and what she wants is Dumbledore... Set during Minerva's last year at Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive the bad punctuation, this was written years ago, I'm better now, I swear ;P

He hadn't meant for it to happen. Until tonight he had resisted the temptation with every fibre of his being. It was wrong, he knew it, and yet even as he burned with shame his passion burned hotter and he could not find the strength to stop himself. Her face swam in front of him; her swollen lips parted slightly and she gasped. He could feel the tickle of her long, silken ebony hair on his legs as she threw her head back, fingernails digging into his shoulders. He knew it was wrong but wild thestrals couldn't drag him from her arms tonight.

She slept soundly. He could not sleep a wink. He lay awake trying to pinpoint the moment she had breached his defenses. She had certainly known what she was doing, he could almost believe she had planned it all. His first mistake had been allowing her entry into his personal quarters, his second had been not to throw her out the moment he realised her intentions. He thought he could talk to her, convince her that they couldn't do this - it was impossible. In the end she had convinced him that they could.

As the sky started to lighten outside his window he knew he must wake her, must send her away. 'Minerva.' He whispered, stroking her tangled hair off her face. 'Minerva, wake up.' She moaned quietly, turning her face into his chest. 'Minerva.' He said a little more loudly, rubbing her arm. She opened her eyes at last, looking up at him sleepily. A languid smile spread across her face.

'Morning.' She murmured, lifting her head to look at the clock on his bedside table. 'It's half-past five.' She grumbled, falling back on the pillow.

'Time for you to go.' He told her, trying to be both gentle and firm.

She propped herself up on her elbow, reveling in the way his gaze fell upon her naked torso before hurriedly flicking back to her face. 'It's early and it's Saturday. No one will be up for hours.' She assured him.

'Do you understand what will happen if we get caught?' he demanded impatiently, desperately fighting the growing urge to kiss her, run his hands over her naked- Stop it! He told himself sternly. Though it may have slipped your mind last night, she is a student!

'I have no intention of getting caught, professor.' She whispered, biting her bottom lip as she ran a devious hand over his chest and stomach. He caught it before it could slip beneath the covers. She was certainly making life difficult for him. Very. Very. Difficult.

She lowered her lips to his, taking his mouth so softly, as seductively as she had last night. 'Minerva,' he warned, breaking the kiss even as he felt his desire for her stirring in him again.

'Yes, sir?' she asked innocently, a playful smile on her lips. She knew she had the upper hand. As much as he protested she knew how much he wanted her, how easily he could be persuaded; she could see it in his eyes.

'I'm your teacher - this isn't right.' He said huskily, closing his eyes against her, trying to master his feelings, but the image of her was burned onto his eyelids and no amount of imagining Professor Dippet in his underwear was going to make it go away. Not when he could smell her shampoo, the faint scent of soap on her skin, feel her thumb slowly stroking his stomach …

'But it feels right, doesn't it?' she said, gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips. She was so close he could feel her warm breath stir his moustache. She kissed him again, more forcefully this time, pulling her hand out of his to cup his face and his hand found her thigh as she wrapped one long leg over his stomach.

He meant to push her away, to force her back to her dormitory if he must, but without knowing quite how it had happened he found himself cradled between her legs, his mouth on her ivory throat, hands tangled in her silken hair and all thought wiped blissfully from his mind. He was lost.

***

'Homework to be handed in on Thursday.' He said as the bell rang for the end of the day's classes.

His seventh year class muttered darkly as they packed away their things. If they'd thought it couldn't get any worse than what they'd had to endure in the run up to their O.W.L. examinations, they were sorely mistaken. N.E.W.T. year had already laid claim to almost a dozen nervous collapses.

Professor Dumbledore purposely fiddled with the papers on his desk as the class filed out, knowing that Minerva was there, probably trying to catch his eye. It was safer all round if he just didn't look up. He had spent equal amounts of time over the last fortnight both beating himself up for behaving so abominably … and reliving every moment of the experience in his mind. He was sure of one thing though: it could never happen again.

'Professor?' His heart sank as he looked up to find that she was the only one left in the room.

'How may I help you, Miss McGonagall?' he asked, gathering up his papers, eager to leave. He was not sure his resolve could stand this vigorous a test just yet.

'I've been giving serious consideration to becoming an Animagus - at least I'd like to try - and I was wondering if you could give me more information.' She said, slinging her bag over her shoulder and coming to stand by his desk.

He looked at her for a long moment, not entirely sure he trusted her motivations, and then berated himself for thinking so ill of her. She was an excellent student, top of the year and Head Girl. She was simply asking for help from her Transfiguration Professor. He rubbed his chin, 'Firstly, it is an extremely difficult skill to learn, not everyone who attempts it is successful. As you know there have only been five Animagi in the last century. It requires a great deal of dedication and hard work. You will need to find a sponsor, someone who is prepared to oversee your training which could take several years.'

'You could do that, couldn't you, sir? Being an Animagus yourself?' she asked, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

'I don't think that would be a good idea, Minerva.' He said softly.

She fixed him with a penetrating stare, 'Would you be saying that if nothing had happened between us?' she asked in a low whisper.

'But something did happen.' He said, shutting the door with a flick of his wand and putting a silencing spell around it with another.

'With all due respect, Professor, I see no reason why our personal issues should hinder my education. I'm a good student, I work damn hard and I deserve a chance try this.'

'Of course you do, I just don't think I'm the person to sponsor you. I can recommend several more than qualified candidates and I'd be happy to put in a good word for you.' She looked for a moment as though she was going to argue but seemed to think better of it.

'I'd appreciate that, thank you.' She said, lowering her gaze.

'Well, if that's all…' he said, making to leave.

'Sir, I just want you to know I…' she faltered, fiddling with the strap of her bag. 'Look, I don't regret what happened - I have feelings for you and that's not something I can help - but I am sorry if I've put you in a difficult position. I know you think what we did was wrong and probably want to forget it ever happened. I can't, I've tried but I can't. I'm not someone who breaks the rules just for the fun of it but sometimes rules are made to be broken.'

'Not this one.' He sighed, putting his burden down on the nearest desk. 'This is all my fault. I am a teacher, you are my student. I should have exercised more control.'

'Why? I may be a student but I'm no child.'

'Of that I am aware,' he said wryly, 'but you are still only eighteen. You would do better to find someone your own age.'

'But I don't want anyone else…' she confessed quietly, 'I want you and I know you want me too.'

'What we want is neither here nor there,' Minerva noticed he did not contradict her assertion of his feelings for her. 'What you ask is impossible.'

'We wouldn't be having this conversation if that were so.' She challenged gently.

'Minerva, please, listen to me.' he begged, 'You must forget everything that happened between us. In a few months you will leave Hogwarts and never look back. Until then I suggest we keep contact to a minimum.'

She shook her head, 'You don't really want that.'

'I think I know my own mind!' he snapped with unwonted anger.

'It wasn't your mind doing the thinking the other night when you touched me … when you ran your fingers through my hair … when we made love …' she had let her bag slip to the floor, steadily closing the gap between them as she spoke, every word filling him with visions of their night together. He grasped her by the shoulders, holding her at arms length, his heart in his throat. He was terrified; terrified of the power she had over him and of what she would do with that power. She was the snake charmer and he was the snake.

'Minerva,' he said dazedly, her lips seeming to fill his field of vision 'We can't.'

Her hands on the front of his robes pulled him closer and he obeyed. 'There's no such word as "can't".' she whispered. He tried to say I think you'll find there is but instead found himself with her face in his hands, his mouth descending on hers.

'Professor Dumbledore?' They broke apart as someone rattled the door handle and then knocked on the door. They held their breath, eyes fixed on the only way in or out of the classroom (save for the windows if you didn't mind falling three floors). They heard a second, higher voice saying, 'He must have gone already, come on let's check his office.' followed by retreating footsteps. Minerva sagged against Albus' shoulder, breathing out a deep sigh of relief. Her fingers ached where they had clenched in the fabric of his robes. He cleared his throat, stepping back and she released him.

'I should get out of here.' She suggested, collecting her bag from the floor. He nodded mutely in agreement, though even now, with what had nearly happened, he still wanted to kiss her. He lifted the enchantments on the door and there was a loud click as it unlocked and swung open. Passing within a breath of him she pressed a piece of parchment into his hand and was gone.

***

He had watched her leave, unable to tear his eyes away from her retreating back, the gentle curves that weren't quite hidden by her robes. She was so confident, so self-assured … so young he reminded himself for the billionth time in the past few hours. He read again the missive in his hand as he brooded before the fire in his quarters.

"I will come to you tonight … don't turn me away..."

He glanced at the clock over the mantelpiece, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. He should have gone out, removed himself from temptation. She would be here soon and he wasn't entirely sure he would turn her away. He was already formulating any number of excuses to give in the event that someone found her in his personal rooms. He could quite reasonably assert that they were discussing her wish to become an Animagus.

A second later he was furious with himself for even entertaining the notion. She was brilliant and had a bright future ahead of her, a future that could be over before it began if they were found out. And then he had his own career to consider, he would be kicked out of Hogwarts faster than you could say 'never tickle sleeping dragons'.

And then the other side of his brain pointed out that they had already gotten away with it once, there was no reason to think that they couldn't again. Who would ever suspect a student of Minerva's caliber of having an affair with the venerable Albus Dumbledore? And he couldn't deny her allure - where had she led him that he hadn't wanted to go? She had always been one of his favourite students: endlessly curious and unafraid to challenge him, a sense of humour so dry that it was sometimes hard to tell if she was joking or not; she seemed to have an aptitude for almost everything she turned her hand to and on top of all of this she had the poise and demeanor of a woman twice her age. All these things he had admired in her long before noticing how singularly beautiful she was.

'It still doesn't make it right!' he hissed at himself, getting to his feet. He'd just have to leave before she got here, that was all there was to it, then there was absolutely no chance of anything happening. He stalked purposefully towards the door. His hand had just touched the handle when there was a knock. Too late.

If it weren't for the wards preventing apparition inside the grounds he might have unintentionally splinched himself at that moment: he had never been so torn, simultaneously wanting to run away and hide yet equally compelled to wrench the door open.

Minerva stood outside in the corridor, praying that no one would happen upon her, terrified that she would receive no answer from within. She was essentially throwing herself at him and there was no guarantee he would catch her a second time. Until now she had been drawing on her Gryffindor bravery, desperately trying to hold her nerve: she was not used to playing the wily seductress. A month ago she would never have dreamed of coming onto a teacher, had ignored her mounting feelings for him as best she could but there was something in the way he looked at her when she caught him unguarded, the longing in his eyes that he tried to hide - she just knew he felt at least some of the love she had for him.

And it was love; it ran too deep to be a schoolgirl crush. That night in his rooms they had argued but the more he protested the more she knew she was right and when she had finally screwed up the last of her courage to kiss him (repeating the mantra 'fortune favours the brave' over and over in her head) … he had kissed her back. Spending the night in his arms had been the last thing she'd expected and yet it had felt so right she knew she could never let him go. Unfortunately he had other ideas, had avoided her like the plague ever since. It had taken her until today to gather her strength enough to stage another assault on his defenses. Now, standing alone in the corridor her courage was slipping away like sand through an hourglass.

What if he didn't answer?

She lifted her hand to knock again but hesitated, swallowing. If he didn't want her it wouldn't matter how long she stood outside his door. If he didn't want her she would have to creep back to her dorm and try to forget. It had been almost two minutes. She could feel tears starting to prick her eyes - how could she have been foolish enough to think that a man like Albus Dumbledore would want to be with her? She had half turned to go when the door opened. With a quick glance up and down the corridor, she slipped inside.


	2. Chapter 2

'You've got another lesson tonight? That's the second one this week!' Maureen sighed, mixing her mashed potato, green beans and leftover pie into an unappetizing sludge on her dinner plate. Ever since Minerva had decided to become an Animagus she had seen less and less of her and although she missed the society of one of her best friends, she had to admit her grades were also suffering for lack of someone to check her work over for her.

Minerva cast her an apologetic look. 'I need all the help I can get if I'm going to pull this off. With N.E.W.T.s coming up I won't have time to study for both soon. I just want to get as much done as possible now.' She sighed at the look on her friend's face, 'How about we go out for a drink tomorrow night?' She knew it was poor recompense for the endless nights she'd been 'studying' with Albus but what was the point being a seventh year if they couldn't abuse their right to go into Hogsmeade whenever they wanted?

Maureen shrugged mulishly. 'You sure you can fit me into your busy schedule?'

Minerva ignored the sulky edge to her voice, 'Always.' She assured her. 'I'll even buy you a glass of fire whiskey.'

'A glass?' she cast her a sly smile from behind a drift of blonde hair. 'I'm afraid forgiveness costs a bottle these days…'

Minerva rolled her eyes, giving Maureen a gentle shove. 'You drive a hard bargain, Mo, but you've got yourself a deal.'

'Deal? What? Did I miss something?' Persephone Maldoran sat down on the bench opposite, filling a bowl with strawberry trifle and answering Minerva's disapproving shake of the head with 'It's got fruit in the bottom!'

'I was just blackmailing Min into buying the first round at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow night.' Maureen smirked.

Sephy raised her eyebrows under her deep red fringe. 'And what would you have on little miss perfect?' she asked.

'This face.' She said, sticking out her bottom lip and making puppy-dog eyes.

Minerva flicked her wand furtively under the table, addressing Persephone, 'She's making me feel guilty for taking extra lessons.'

'It's only one night a week, Mo, that still leaves – what?- two for her to fix your homework.' She frowned at Maureens still protruding bottom lip, 'I think you can stop making 'the face' now.'

'No I can't.' she said with some difficulty. 'It's stuck!'

Minerva stifled a giggle, 'Maybe the wind changed…'

Mo would have frowned had she been able to move her face. 'Minerva!'

'Yes?' she asked innocently, finishing the last of her roast.

'Fix my face!'

'I think that might be beyond the realms of magic.' Said Persephone through fits of laughter as Minerva flicked her wand again, lifting the spell.

'Ow - Thanks.' She said, massaging her chin. 'Anyway, it isn't just one lesson a week, she's got another one tonight.'

'That only gives you one night to do your homework.' Sephy cried in horror. As captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team she was overseeing three training sessions a week and struggling herself to do all the schoolwork they were being set. 'You've already got your Head Girl meetings on Monday and Quidditch practices on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Dumbledore can't expect you to do this much extra work. It's ridiculous. You'll just have to tell him you can't do it.'

'Professor Dumbledore isn't making me do anything!' Minerva snapped, a little more sharply than she'd intended. She avoided their eyes as she admitted, 'I asked him for extra lessons.'

'Only you would ask for more work. You work too hard as it is.' Persephone moaned, secretly worried that her Seeker was going to succumb to the nervous exhaustion currently sweeping the seventh years.

'Don't you start with me too.' Minerva warned, steely determination glinting in her green eyes. 'What I choose to do with my time is my choice and no one elses.'

'Whoa, hey! No need to bite my head off.' She held her hands up, looking reproachful. 'I just worry you're going to run yourself into the ground one of these days… but you're absolutely right; it's your funeral.'

Minerva rolled her eyes. 'Don't you think you're being a tad overdramatic?'

Mo shook her head, 'I don't know how you're doing it as it is. I was up until three o'clock this morning finishing those astronomy charts for Madeira!' she complained, pulling the chocolate pudding towards her.

'You wouldn't have if you'd done it when I told you to instead of sneaking off with Blake Johnson.' Reprimanded the Scot, cutting herself a thin slice of Battenburg cake.

'You wanna watch it, Min, you'll lose that dainty figure of yours pigging out like that.'

'We were studying!' Mo argued.

'Yeah,' Minerva snorted, 'each others tonsils!'

'And don't try denying it cuz Rolanda Torence saw you at it at the back of the library.'

'Someone should tell her it's rude to spy.'

'So's talking with your mouth full.'

Mo opened her mouth wide, sticking her tongue out, to reveal a mouthful of mushed up chocolate pudding, making Minerva and Persephone shake their heads in disgust. 'You're sick.' Said Sephy, wrinkling her nose and dropping her spoon into her bowl with a clatter apparently having lost her appetite.

Mo raised a satisfied eyebrow, 'Blake doesn't seem to think so…' she said smugly.

***

Albus ran a long hand over the smooth expanse of Minerva's bare back and was rewarded when his ministrations elicited a shiver. She turned to smile at him over her shoulder, slightly exasperated, 'I'm trying to read.'

'Am I disturbing you?' he asked airily, running a light finger down her side.

She bit her lip, toes curling under the sheets. 'A little, yes.'

'Oh, I'm sorry … please continue.' He nodded, barely concealing a smile as she shook her head and turned back to the book on her pillow. He had quickly learned that she had not become top of the year on raw talent alone. She spent endless hours poring over her schoolbooks, scratching away until the early hours of the morning almost every night.

He watched her for a moment, eyes sliding rapidly down each page as she wound a length of hair around her fingers. She was so unaware of herself sometimes; something he could never be. She shifted as he played with the hair on the back of her neck, shoulders flexing, 'Albus…' she warned, shivering again.

He leaned over, kissing her throat. 'Oh, don't mind me…' he told her. She closed her eyes, tilting her head to expose several more inches of lily-white neck for him to take advantage of.

'I didn't say I minded.' She mumbled, 'But you could have waited until I finished the chapter.'

'By all means, finish what you're doing.' He conceded, hand curling around her hip, dragging her towards him.

She laughed, rolling onto her side to face him, barely an inch between them. 'You're making it a little difficult.'

He looked hurt, 'Just a little?' he asked. 'I must not be trying hard enough.'

She pressed a hand over his mouth as he leaned in to kiss her, slipping out of his arms while she still could. 'Just a few more pages.' She promised, fighting an incredible urge to bite that pouty bottom lip.  
'I'm growing rather jealous of this book.' He said, picking it up and reading the cover – "A Short Biography of Rembrant the Redundant". It was at least three-hundred pages despite its proclamation of being 'short'.

'You needn't be, it's as dull Professor Binns' classes.' She assured him.

'And yet it's had your undivided attention for the better part of an hour.'

Her attention had been very divided in her opinion; the man had persistently wandering hands. 'I'm almost finished. Patience is a virtue.' She said, finding her page again.

'I seem to be fresh out of it tonight – must be the company I'm keeping.'

'Why, professor, I do believe I'm having a bad influence on you.' She said, turning back to the book, hair falling over her shoulders.

He resigned himself to quiet observation. Far be it for him to interfere with her studies; he'd sworn to himself at the beginning that he would never get in the way of her education – no matter how sorely he might be tempted. Even if she was reading the worst book ever written, a book that wasn't worth the consideration of her brilliant mind…the attention of those vivid green eyes … he could surely withstand temptation for a measly ten minutes … even when she was bringing home the meaning of the word irresistible to Dumbledore as one slender calf slipped out from under the sheet to weave backwards and forwards like an inverted pendulum.

He propped himself up on an elbow, a small smile playing on his lips. He was supposed to be the greatest wizard of his generation and yet, at this moment, his brain was utterly incapable of coming up with anything to distract him from the witch stretched out in front of him. He'd already established that picturing the Headmaster in his underwear was no help… and then it struck him. The perfect turn-off.

Minerva was finding it extremely difficult to concentrate with his gaze so steadily fastened on her. She turned to him in exasperation. 'What is so fascinating?'

'You need to ask?' he smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She blushed slightly. 'I was just thinking (while I was enjoying your many attributes) that you don't look an ounce like your father.' He said with the image of a short, portly man with sandy hair and blue eyes in his mind. There was nothing like the disapproval of a parent to ruin your libido – for a short while at least. 'I met him a few times in Diagon Alley – he works in Flourish and Blotts, does he not?'

She nodded. 'I seem to have inherited my mother's looks and my fathers brains.'

'In that case I am eager to meet your mother.' He said roguishly.

Her smile faded a little, 'I hope that day's a long time in coming – she died when I was two.'

He sobered immediately. 'I am sorry.' He apologised, kicking himself.

'Don't be. I can't even remember her.' She shrugged, 'I suppose, if anything, I miss the idea of having a mother more than anything else. Dad never remarried.'

'He must have loved her very much.' He said, squeezing her hand. How was it that he'd never taken the time to ask even the simplest of questions about her family?

'I think so: he doesn't like to talk about her much.' She dropped her gaze, 'I'm sorry, I don't want to bore you with the dreary details of my childhood. I should finish this.'

He raised her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers, 'I want to know everything about you.'

'Books and Quidditch.' She summarized with a wayward smile, 'I'm really not that complicated.'

She attempted to go back to the book but he was fixing her with those damned blue eyes again, that maddeningly piercing gaze, not saying a word, until she couldn't stand it anymore. She snapped the history book shut, tossed it onto the bedside table and, picking up her wand, plunged the room into darkness. She felt her way towards him, hand coming up against his chest. 'You weren't going to let me finish it anyway, were you?' she reasoned.

***

The moon was high and shining brightly through the windows of Gryffindor common room where a student with long, curly red hair had fallen asleep beside the fire. Persephone was woken when the cat, a sleek black feline, barely more than a kitten, which had been creeping noiselessly across the polished wooden floor, leapt onto the potions essay in her lap. She blinked blearily, squinting down at the animal. She frowned as the cat looked up at her with large yellow eyes, meowing. 'Maverick?' she asked as though he would answer, looking over at the grandfather clock that stood in the corner of the room: half past two. 'What are you doing down here?'

She scooped him up in one hand, dumping her homework on the table as she stood. Maverick dug his claws into the front of her robes, apparently not trusting her not to drop him; he'd never been the friendliest of cats. In fact Persephone hadn't so much as stroked the beast since the day he'd staggered out of the Dark Forest and promptly bitten her. Minerva loved him though, had nursed him back to health and posted notices all over the school looking for his owner. When nobody came forward to claim him she decided to keep him herself, which was just as well since she was the only one he didn't try to claw to pieces.

Persephone found it odd that the little fur-ball would suddenly seek her company when he was usually to be found curled up on Minerva's bed, hissing at anyone who dared to disturb his mistresses sleep. She climbed the spiral staircase into their shared dormitory, tripping over someone's robes – probably Mo's – and causing Maverick to claw his way over her shoulder, landing with a soft thud on the floor behind her. 'Ow, son of a bitch!' she whispered vehemently, pressing a hand over the claw-marks across her neck. She pulled back the velvet curtains around Minerva's bed, resisting the urge to give the cat a bloody good kick, and was surprised to find it empty.

Maverick meowed again, springing up on the tartan quilt. 'Min, shut that stupid thing up.' came a sleepy voice from the next bed.

'She's not here.'

The curtains twitched aside to reveal a messy blonde head, 'Whaddya mean she's not there?' Maureen said irritably, 'What time is it?'

Sephy frowned, 'Half-two.'

Mo rubbed her eyes, 'Where is she then?'

'No idea.' She answered, perplexed.

'Checked the common room?'

'Just came from there.'

'Maybe she fell asleep in the library again.' She suggested, flopping back down on her pillows. 'You go look, I'll stay here in case she comes back.'

'I'm not going on my own!'

'I'm not dressed.'

'So get dressed.' She said, picking up the robes she'd fallen over and throwing them at Mo. Mo pulled them off her face, giving Persephone a disgruntled look. 'You know Min would do it for you.'

'Only so she could shout at me for being out after hours.' She groaned, sitting up.

Five minutes later they were creeping out through the portrait hole, casting furtive looks up and down the corridor. 'You realise how much trouble we'll be in if we get caught?'

'Relax, Mo, we're not going to get caught – ow, that was my foot!'

'Sorry! It's dark.'

'That's what happens when the sun goes down.'

'Ha ha.'

'Shh, we're here.' Persephone tried to push the door open but it was locked. She took out her wand, muttering, 'Alohomora.' There was a soft click and they tip-toed in.

The library was almost as dark as the corridor outside but there was enough moonlight filtering in through the high windows to ascertain that Minerva was not there. 'Great.' Whispered Maureen. 'What now?'

'Kitchens?'

'When have you ever known Min to sneak out for food?'

'Well I don't hear you coming up with anything better!' Persephone retorted heatedly.

'Okay, keep your knickers on.'

Half an hour and much bickering later they'd tried not only the kitchens but the infirmary (being careful not to wake the crabby old nurse, Healer Hopkins), the Astronomy tower, the owlery, the Transfiguration classroom (where Minerva sometimes liked to practice) and the Great Hall – Maureen's suggestion – and still had not found the errant Head Girl.

'Maybe she went back to the tower.'

'Maybe…' agreed Sephy though she didn't look convinced.

'We'll go back and check and if she isn't there – I hate to even suggest it but – we might have to, you know, tell someone.'

'What and get her in trouble?'

'What if she's already in trouble?'

She sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. 'I suppose – but I'm telling Min it was your idea.'

'Chickenshit – what was that!' she gasped, grabbing Persephone's arm. They backed into an alcove, looking around for the source of the noise. All was answered when Peeves glided by, not two metres from where they were hiding, juggling what looked like helmets from two of the many suits of armour around the castle. 'That was close.' Mo breathed a sigh of relief. 'Let's get out of here.'

They ran as fast as they dared back up the seven flights of stairs to Gryfindor tower, hoping against hope that Minerva was there. Maverick hissed at them from her still empty bed. 'Well that's it then – we'll have to wake up one of the teachers.' They looked uneasily at each other. Had it been anyone else they wouldn't have bothered but Minerva McGonagall was infamous for dishing out severe punishment to those foolish enough to be caught out of bed, out of hours. In all the years they'd known her she'd only done it herself once and that was because she'd fallen asleep in the library with her History of Magic book for a pillow revising for her O.W.L.

'Okay – who?'

'Dumbledore I suppose. He's head of house.'

'And he thinks the sun shines out of her ass.' Added Mo confidently. 'He probably won't even give her detention.'

***

Someone was knocking on the door. Albus looked at the clock on the bedside table and turned to see Minerva's terrified face, white in the darkness, looking up at him. 'Who is it?' she hissed, hand frozen on his chest. To be caught here would be the end of them both, though how anyone could have found out was beyond her.

He shook his head with a small, helpless shrug. 'Get dressed.' He whispered, pulling away from her and climbing out of bed. He opened his wardrobe and took out a pair of pyjamas, thrusting his arms into the sleeves as Minerva leapt out of bed, retrieving her robes from the floor and tugging them over her head. As he sat on the bed pulling on the bottoms, she pulled on her socks, looking around frantically for her underwear, 'come on …' she whispered desperately, they had to be here somewhere.

Finally she spotted them, lying in the shadow of the chest of drawers. She hurried towards them, tripping over one of her shoes in her haste. She threw out her arms, eyes wide as she flew through the air. Albus saw her fall in slow motion, stretching out his arm as if to catch her though he was on the other side of the room. He winced as though struck himself when her head bounced off the edge of the drawers and she landed with a thud on the wooden floor, out cold.

He hurried to her side even as there was another, louder knock. He pressed a gentle hand to her throat, closing his eyes with relief when he felt a strong pulse against his fingers. His hand moved to her cheek, 'Minerva?' he whispered urgently. 'Minerva!'

She remained stubbornly unconscious, breathing slow and even. He had to get help for her, she needed medical attention, but if they found her here, in his bedroom at three o'clock in the morning (and without her underwear no less) it wouldn't be rocket science putting the pieces together. He swore under his breath, aware that there was still someone seeking his presence at the front door. He lifted her as gently as he could, laying her on the bed. 'I'll be right back.' He promised her, kissing her forehead and summoning his glasses.

He hurried through the living room, hastily tying his dressing gown as he went. 'Sorry to wake you, Professor.'

'Not at all, Miss Maldoran.' He said, trying to smile. 'Is there something I can help you with?'

The girls exchanged worried looks. 'It's Minerva, sir. We can't find her anywhere.'

His mouth was suddenly very dry. 'She isn't in bed?' he asked in a voice slightly higher than usual.

'No, sir. Or the library, infirmary, Great Hall-'

'Owlery, Astronomy Tower or the Transfiguration classroom.' Finished Maureen, looking up at him with wide blue eyes. 'And we thought something might be wrong cuz it's not like her, sir.'

Albus nodded understandingly, 'You did the right thing coming to me.' he reassured them, 'I'll look for her at once. You two get back to bed, I'll let you know when there's news.'

They nodded, turning away and he shut the door, half running back to the bedroom, panic rising in his chest. Perfect. Not only was Minerva almost definitely concussed but her absence had been noticed too. He lit the lamps about the room, bending close to examine the livid lump already rising on her forehead. 'You never do things by halves, do you?' he muttered desperately, wracking his considerable brains for a plan, any plan. He wasn't a Healer and it would be foolishly risky of him to attempt to heal a head injury, too many things could go wrong, but neither could he summon Madam Hopkins to his rooms...

How the hell was he to get out of this one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! x


	3. Chapter 3

Minerva groaned. Her head hurt. A lot. She opened one eye and quickly squeezed it shut again when the sun poked one sharp finger in it. Strange: she didn't remember being clubbed in the head by a troll but she imagined that this was exactly how it would feel. She risked opening her eyes again, just a tiny bit and saw that she was in the infirmary but when she tried to recall why it only made her head thump harder.

'Hello?' she called, wincing and closing her eyes again. She heard footsteps on the tiled floor.

'Ah, you're awake then.' She opened her eyes to see Madam Hopkins waving a wand over her head.

'What happened?' she rasped.

'You tell me. Professor Dumbledore found you passed out in the courtyard - at three o'clock in the morning, I might add.' She added, giving her a stern look of disapproval. 'Still hurt, does it?'

'Mmm.' She dare not nod incase her head rolled off.

'To be expected.' Hurrumphed the old witch, as though she deserved nothing less for breaking school rules, reading from the piece of parchment her wand had issued. 'Swelling's gone down but it'll be tender for a few days. Drink this.' She pulled a small phial out of her apron pocket.

Minerva swallowed the thick purple liquid with a grimace of disgust. It did however dissolve the pain from her throbbing temples. 'Thank-you.'

Hopkins nodded shortly, banishing the parchment with a tap of her wand. 'So, what were you doing out there?' She was a short, plump figure with steely grey hair pinned into a strict no-nonsense bun who might have looked motherly were it not for the fierce glare that was a permanent fixture on her wizened face.

'No idea.' Said Minerva, swallowing involuntarily under her disbelieving glower. 'I can't remember anything after dinner last night.'

The matron harrumphed again, giving her a shrewd look, 'It isn't uncommon for short term memory loss to occur with this sort of head injury.' She admitted grudgingly. This Minerva already knew after an unfortunate incident with a bludger in a third year Quidditch match against Slytherin; then too she'd woken up in the Hospital Wing with no recollection of how she came to be there. She realised that she hadn't been listening to a word the nurse had been saying and tuned back in as she turned away, not seeming to notice her inattentive audience, '…parked outside my infirmary since this morning. Best let 'em in before someone trips over them.' She shuffled down the ward, opening the double doors. 'You've got quarter of an hour.' She informed Persephone and Maureen as they trouped in, 'not a minute longer.'

Mo stuck her tongue out at the old witches retreating back, dragging a second chair over from the neighbouring bed to sit beside Sephy. 'What have you been up to now?'

'You had us worried sick.' Persephone chastised sternly. Anyone would have thought Minerva had done it on purpose.

'Ow,' Minerva protested at Sephy's sharp prod in the ribs. 'Watch it!' she rebuked, pulling herself into a sitting position against pillows so starched that they crinkled like newspaper.

'So?' asked Mo, ignoring the indignant glare she was shooting her partner in crime. 'What happened?'

Minerva frowned, searching for the memory but coming up empty. She shrugged. 'Last thing I remember is leaving dinner last night.'

'Dumbledore said he found you outside.' Prompted Mo, clearly dissatisfied with the woefully inadequate answer.

'Wonder what he was doing out at that time…' mused Minerva.

Persephone and Mo exchanged nervous glances. 'Well, you see, we were worried when you didn't come back-'

'It was Sephy's idea to tell him!' Interjected Mo quickly and Persephone shot her a murderous look.

'It was two o'clock in the morning!' she said defensively, looking anxiously at Minerva. 'And I know what you're like, Min … I'm really sorry if I got you in trouble.'

Minerva shook her head, 'Don't worry about it, I don't even know if I should be in trouble.'

'Weird though, no one finding you sooner, I mean. You must have been out there a while.'

Mo glanced at Sephy, 'Didn't think to look outside, did we?'

Minerva gave them incredulous looks. 'You came looking for me?'

'Well we weren't gonna dob you in to Dumbledore without looking for you ourselves first, were we?'

'So you decided to go creeping around the castle after hours?' she asked with the air of a long suffering guardian.

Maureen rolled her eyes, 'Sometimes you have to break a few rules. Anyway, Dumbledore didn't tell us off so why should you?'

Minerva was about to open her mouth to retort when a tawny owl swooped in through the window, landing neatly on the bed's headboard and surveying them all magisterially with wide yellow eyes.

'Hello,' Sephy raised an eyebrow, a sly grin on her face, 'what have we got here then?'

The owl blinked slowly at her as if to say 'I don't see your name on it', sticking out a leg, to which was attached a note and long thin parcel. It was the parcel which had provoked a reaction in Persephone, being as it had the Hosmeade florist's logo on it. Minerva looked mutely between the bird, Sephy and Mo, consternated. 'Well, are you gonna take it or wait until the owl loses its balance?' asked Mo, burning with curiosity.

Minerva's fingers fumbled over the ribbon, finally pulling the box, roughly a foot and a half long, and missive loose. 'There's no name.' She said, turning the paper over in her hand. There again was embossed 'Madam Flora's Fabulous Flowers'.

'What's it say?'

She read the neatly printed words out loud, '"Hope you're feeling better."'

'Not exactly Shakespeare, is it?' Persephone commented as Minerva pulled the ribbon from the box and lifted the lid off. Inside was a single long-stemmed rose changing colour before her eyes; red, purple, blue, green, yellow, orange, red…

'Ooh, pretty.' Cooed Mo with a little clap. 'Looks like you've got a secret admirer, Min.'

Sephy tugged the bit of parchment out of her hand, 'Don't recognise the handwriting. Wonder who sent it?'

***

The corridors were almost deserted when Minerva was let out of the infirmary that evening; most of the school were in the Great Hall enjoying dinner but the potion she'd been taking throughout the day had left her with no small amount of nausea and so she was heading back to the common room instead.

A couple of the sixth year prefects had stopped by in the afternoon to see her with more chocolate frogs than she'd be able to eat in a week and the Head Boy had also gifted her with her favourite biscuits, Ginger Newts. She'd blushed profusely whilst explaining how she'd come to be in the infirmary in the first place. 'Must have been a loose slab.' He'd said in her defense, not quite managing to stifle a laugh. She was disappointed though when her Transfiguration Professor was not one of the dozen visitors to her hospital bedside.

She yawned as she passed the portrait of Edgar Gomadd on the third floor. Despite having snoozed most of the morning away she felt as though she hadn't slept in a week and her head was beginning to throb again. She stopped to rummage in her bag for the bottle of potion Madame Hopkins had given her, leaning against a tapestry. She was surprised when she felt not solid wall but thin air behind it. She barely had time to swear loudly before colliding with something quite solid on the other side, which obligingly prevented her from hitting the floor. She caught the briefest glimpse of auburn hair before the tapestry fell back into place, cutting off the only source of light. 'Professor Dumbledore,' she gasped, as he arranged her on her feet again. Two trips in twenty-four hours, her equilibrium was failing her. 'Nice catch. Thanks.' She said as several torches along the walls burst into flame.

His eyes twinkled, a hand still on her arm which was tingling at the touch. 'Glad to be of assistance.' He smiled. 'How's the head?'

'Still on my shoulders,' she nodded and winced, 'I can tell by the pounding.'

He frowned at this, turning her face up towards him and peering at her in some concern. 'Maybe you should go back to the infirmary.'

'No!' she answered quickly and he dropped his hand back to his side. 'No, I'm fine, really, and Madame Hopkins gave me a potion – I was about to take some when I fell through the wall.' She began to search her bag again, finally procuring the foul purple concoction. 'Bottoms up.' She grimaced, taking a mouthful.

'Pesky things, walls.' He mused, smiling at the look of disgust on her face. 'Better?'

'Much.' She agreed, stoppering the bottle and replacing it in her bag. She looked up at him, a playful glint in her eye. 'So what are you doing lurking in hidden passage-ways?'

'As a matter of fact I was on my way to find you to see that you were recovering. You had me quite worried for a moment there.' He admitted, 'I couldn't stay too long last night, Misses Maldoran and Delaney were waiting for news.'

'Yeah, they were in the infirmary about thirty seconds after I came round this morning. Couldn't tell them much – I haven't got a clue what happened myself.'

'Ah,' He looked discomforted for a moment, 'About that –'

But whatever it was 'about that' she never found out as they heard several students making their way up the stairs on the other side of the tapestry and he broke off, casting a wary glance towards the buoyant voices. 'I should go. Come and see me tomorrow if you can?'

She nodded, 'Of course,' shivering a little when he briefly squeezed her hand.

His gaze traveled over her face for a moment, as if once again reassuring himself that she was well. She was paler than usual, her eyes a little dimmer than he was used to but that was to be expected and nothing, he hoped, that a good night's sleep wouldn't cure. He smiled. 'Goodnight, Minerva.' And with that he was gone, leaving a slightly baffled Miss McGonagall in his wake.

***

It had been torture for Albus. He couldn't sit at her bedside, as he'd wanted to, for that would have drawn too much attention. He hadn't eaten a morsel all day and several times he'd settled himself down to mark papers only to find that he couldn't concentrate. He was still surprised – and grateful - he'd managed to get her down the stairs without anyone noticing. From the entrance hall he could claim he was coming in from outside. Of course he'd had to cool her down, it would have been difficult to claim she'd been outside for hours when she was understandably toasty from being curled up in bed with him.

After waking Madame Hopkins, he'd stayed only long enough to reassure himself that she was in no immediate danger – as any head of house would have done - before heading up to Gryffindor Tower where he'd found the two girls still awake, curled up in armchairs before a cold fireplace. 'Have you found her?'

'Is she okay?' asked Persephone, jumping to her feet, wide-eyed and whey faced. Any number of terrible scenarios had been running through her mind in the hour since they'd been to see Dumbledore.

'She's in the hospital wing, she's going to be fine.' He added at Maureen's gasp. 'It looks like she hit her head.'

'Where was she?' they asked as one.

'Outside. Perhaps she went out for some air and slipped. You'll have to ask her yourselves tomorrow. For tonight, I suggest you get some sleep.'

Of course they hadn't been happy with that, had wanted to go down to the infirmary right there and then, but he'd politely reminded them that Madame Hopkins might not take too kindly to having her ward invaded in the middle of the night and they'd grudgingly agreed.

It was almost five in the morning before he got back to bed but he couldn't sleep. He'd lifted her forgotten book from the bedside table and read it cover to cover in under an hour. She'd been right – it was duller than Professor Binns' classes – and on any other night it probably would've put him to sleep. So tonight, finally having seen Minerva was up and about and okay, it was with great relief that he crawled under the covers and sighed.

He rolled over, head cradled between the pillows, and could smell Minerva's perfume on the sheets. He felt a pang of loss and realised that he missed her, missed her warm body sleeping next to his, and it scared him more than he cared to admit. He was falling. Before he might have passed it off as infatuation but it was dawning on him that it might be more than that, that this girl, barely more than a child, had succeeded where countless women had failed in ensnaring his heart. God help me, he thought. I can't help myself.

***

Minerva had spent most of Sunday finishing homework she hadn't managed to complete during the week, skipping lunch altogether in favour of handing in her Arithmancy essay on time, and wondering how she'd fallen so far behind. Her brain was still feeling a little fuzzy and, even as she tucked her things back into her bag, she knew the work wasn't up to her usual standard. Still (though she'd never openly admit it) she'd rather have a few pieces of substandard homework than another of the roaring headaches she'd been suffering for the past twenty-four hours.  
'Where are you sneaking off to?' asked Persephone, bent over her own Arithmancy essay with several textbooks spread out on the table before her.

'I'm not sneaking, I've just got to get some books out of the library before it closes.' Of course she really didn't have any intention of going to the library but they didn't need to know that.

'I'll come with you.' Volunteered Mo. The two of them hadn't left her side since she'd woken up and it was beginning to annoy her, no matter how many times she told herself that they were just looking out for her.

'I think I can find my way,' she assured her, 'And you still haven't finished your potions essay.' She chastised with a small smile, knowing how often Maureen would find any excuse not to give her attention to her least favourite subject. 'I won't be long.'

'You'd better not be,' warned Persephone, 'I don't fancy putting together another search team.'

Minerva rolled her eyes and saluted obediently before pushing the portrait door open and almost flattening a pair of first years on the other side. They scurried out of her path, near quaking in their boots. 'Poor little mites,' she thought, 'am I really that intimidating?'

This theory was almost immediately disproved when someone shouted, 'oi, McGonagall!' from the landing below. Peering over the banister she saw Ian Rafferty coming up the stairs and prayed for patience. A typical Slytherin, his hailing her could mean nothing good. Swallowing the urge to just hex him and have done with it, she slipped into the well-practiced role of Prefect, arranging her face into as neutral an expression as possible.

'Something I can do for you, Rafferty?'

He looked positively delighted about something. 'Is it true?' he asked, gleefully, 'You slipped and knocked yourself out?'

'I fail to see how anything I may or may not have done would have anything to do with you.' She answered coolly.

'I'll take that as a yes.' He said smugly. 'My, my, I don't know, what is the world coming to when the Head Girl can't even walk across an empty courtyard without knocking herself out?' his eyes lit up with malevolence. 'That is,' he said slowly, 'assuming it was an empty courtyard…'

Minerva pulled herself up to her full height, feeling her temper rise. 'If I find out you had anything to do with this, you'll find yourself in detention until the end of the year.' She warned, cheeks burning. She hated not knowing what had really happened. Had she been attacked? A trip-jinx perhaps?

'I was just saying it was a possibility was all,' he shrugged, pasting on an unconvincing look of apology over the more genuine smug smile. 'No need to start throwing unfounded accusations around.' His smile widened and he turned to saunter back down the stairs with an air of maddening superiority. She fingered her wand longingly, she could still get him from here and wouldn't she love to show him that under all that arrogance he didn't have half the magical ability that she did. He wouldn't stand a chance in a fair duel … but no. As Head Girl it wouldn't set a good example to the rest of the school if she started turning Slytherins into toads simply because they annoyed her so she watched him until he was out of sight, counting softly to ten under her breath. She sighed. One of these days.

She released the wand in her pocket and continued down to the next level, stopping outside Professor Dumbledore's door, unaccountably nervous as she knocked. It was a few moments before he answered, welcoming her in with a sweep of his blue-robed arm. 'Can I get you a drink?' he asked after seating her on the long red settee.

'Tea, please.' She accepted even as a tea-tray appeared on the coffee table. He took the seat beside her, pouring them both a cup. 'No sugar.' She added when he reached for the small bowl of sugar cubes.

'Right you are.' He nodded, helping himself to three lumps, dropping them into his cup with a soft 'plop'. 'I trust you are feeling better today?' he enquired, sitting back in his seat, one arm resting along the top of the sofa.

'Much.' She answered softly, slightly lost in the unmasked affection in his eyes.

'I'm sorry I didn't come to see you yesterday.' He apologised again. 'Did you like the rose?'

She had indeed like the rose which was even now sitting in a vase on her bedside table. 'It was from you?' she blushed, looking down at the tea in her hands. 'Yes, it was lovely.'

'I can see how you might have speculated upon the sender, you must have many admirers.' Was that jealousy? She wondered, noticing the way his expression darkened momentarily.

'If I didn't know better I'd think you were jealous.' She said, voicing her thoughts, heart pounding beneath her playful exterior.

'Can you blame me?' he asked, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. 'I am an old man compared to the other gentlemen of your acquaintance.'

She placed her cup and saucer back on the table for fear she would pour the contents into her lap before long, her stomach giving a little leap when he mirrored her actions, resting back a little closer than before. Did this mean what she thought it meant? She'd never dared dream that he would return the feelings she had for him and yet everything he'd done since yesterday seemed to suggest that he did. He'd been jealous of the boys in her year, as if they could ever compare! There'd been no competition to Albus Dumbledore in Minerva's affections for almost a year now.

She raised a hand to caress his face, sidling closer until their knees touched. Her eyes flickered between his eyes and mouth, wondering if she dared … before she could make a decision he had leaned down, capturing her lips. His lips brushed over hers so tenderly that her stomach did another little flip, surely upsetting the butterflies fluttering madly in there.

She was positive she had a silly grin on her face when they parted, the only words coming to mind being, 'That was nice.'

'Indeed.' He agreed, not quite managing to suppress his own smile. She was infectious. 'But we have to learn to be more cautious, Minerva. It was a close thing Friday night.'

She frowned in bemusement, 'I don't follow.'

'I can rectify that momentarily.' He assured her, pulling out his wand. 'Close your eyes and try to relax. Clear your mind.' She shot him a skeptical look but sighed and complied at his patiently expectant half-smile. She felt the brush of his wand at her temple as he murmured, 'Recreare memoria.'

She opened her eyes again, looking at him blankly. 'Are you going to tell me what's going on? What was that supposed to accomplish?'

'You don't remember?' he asked.

She shook her head, a shadow of trepidation crossing her face as she shifted back on the sofa away from him. Her headache was coming back. She held up a hand, frowning again. 'Are you telling me that I was with you Friday night?' she asked, even more perplexed than before.

'I don't understand.' He grimaced. 'That spell should have restored your memory.'

'At three o'clock in the morning?'

'Yes.'

'I was here at three o'clock in the morning?' she asked again.

'Yes.'

'With you?'

He was starting to get a bad feeling about this. 'Yes…'

Minerva lay a trembling hand over her eyes. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to her next question and yet she had to ask it. 'Doing what? Exactly?'

'Exactly?' he repeated, his cheeks reddening somewhat, 'Uh, sleeping.' He answered truthfully. 'You seem surprised.' He noted, looking at her apprehensively.

'Well of course I'm bloody surprised! I don't make a habit of sleeping with my professors, professor!' she shot back shrilly, face burning. How could she have been here, with him, for what sounded like half the night without remembering it? Her fantasies of just such an occurrence had always been very memorable.

'That's not what I – Minerva,' he shook his head, at a loss for words. She got to her feet, walking a few paces away before turning back with a mingled look of anger and confusion. Albus leaned forwards, trying to explain, 'Minerva, we've been seeing each other for weeks…'

'Weeks?' she squeaked in a voice most unlike her own. She sank down into the nearest armchair in dazed horror. Weeks? She - Minerva McGonagall - had been having an illicit affair with her Transfiguration Professor for weeks and she had no recollection of it? It was beyond impossible it was … was – was outrageous! She would KNOW if she'd been doing … that. Her head felt as though it was spinning on her shoulders.

It had to be said that Albus was doing little better. 'You don't remember?' he croaked. 'Any of it?'

She opened and closed her mouth several times to answer but seemed to have been rendered temporarily mute. Remember it? Only in her dreams… Finally she shook her head.

Albus closed his eyes, dropping his head into his hands. 'Oh Merlin, what have I done?'


	4. Chapter 4

She had no memory, no memory at all of their time together. What she must have thought when he'd asked her to come to his rooms… he buried his face deeper in his long-fingered hands. Despite their relationship over the last few weeks he couldn't help but feel he'd acted like a lecherous old man. He found himself back at square one, lusting after something that was strictly taboo – even if he'd already tasted the forbidden fruit.

How had he gotten it so wrong? What should have been a relatively simple spell had run amok, charging down not only the last night they'd spent together but every night they'd spent together. 'Professor?' he felt the seat beside him depress and lifted his head with a small, regretful smile. He was surprised how much it pained him to hear her call him professor, had not realised how much he loved to hear his name on her lips. She'd helped herself to his drinks cabinet, pouring out two generous doses of Ogdens, one of which she was holding out to him

She seemed to have regained some of her composure, though it was clear from her drawn face that she was still struggling to overcome the shock. He caught himself before reaching out to comfort her; he didn't want to startle her by being so familiar. 'I'm sorry, Minerva. You're waiting for the explanation you deserve.' He sighed, noticing the way she perched on the edge of her seat, almost as if she was afraid; not of him but, like so many, of the unknown. He could not imagine what this must be like for her.

He stood, pacing around the back of the sofa, giving her space - as if that was what she needed. What Minerva desperately wanted was reassurance, the explanation he had promised her, if she only knew what she was dealing with she felt she'd have a better time handling it. She mastered the urge to hurry him along, twisting in her seat as she followed his progress around the room.

'I suppose I should start at the beginning…' and here he fell at the first hurdle. How to explain those first tumultuous weeks?

He was roused from his thoughts by Minerva's quiet question. 'How long have we been… seeing each other?'

'Seven weeks.' He smiled in spite of himself, 'Seven wonderful weeks.' He added softly, earning himself a faint smile. Drawing courage from this he continued, 'You were quite persistent in your advances, quite determined to have your own way.' She glanced down at the carpet, blushing profusely and yet feeling a glimmer of pride at her own daring. She scarcely knew she had it in her. 'I tried to dissuade you of course, it wasn't proper, the consequences if we were caught … but you convinced me we could find a way, and we did for a while, until Friday night that is.' He explained the events that had led them to their present predicament. 'I thought it would be best to wipe your memories of that night. I was afraid you'd use that excellent brain of yours and completely contradict what I'd already told Madam Hopkins. I had intended to return them just as soon as I had you to myself.' He slumped back down at the end of the sofa, 'I don't understand what went wrong! It wasn't supposed to wipe everything like this.'

Minerva reached up, running her fingers over her forehead, hopelessly trying to force her mind to remember. 'I hit my head.' She said suddenly. 'Could that have affected the spell? Caused an … I don't know … a domino effect?'

'It's possible.' He conceded, 'considering the evidence, it's most likely.'

'Well, at least that gives us a place to start.' She got up, pacing, a feverish intensity in her eyes, 'we'll go to the library, find out if there have been any previous cases of memory spells being affected like this. This can't be an isolated incident.'

'Minerva,' he started to protest but she wasn't listening.

'It's just a matter of finding the right counter-spell.'

'Minerva,' he said more firmly but still she continued, sure she could find an answer if she just read enough books. 'And nobody will ever know how close we came.'  
He stood, taking her by the shoulders to still her. 'Minerva, I will not risk your health further by attempting to cure this myself.' He told her in no uncertain terms. He had the gift of grasping a lesson the first time round.

She smiled indulgently, as if he was missing a point she was only too happy to explain. 'But if we find a counter-spell there's no reason-'

'No.' he shook his head resolutely, 'I've already made one mistake.'

'Well what other option do we have?' she asked. There were only two choices as far as she could see. 'You don't expect me to live with this gaping hole in my memory? Whose to say it won't get worse without treatment?'

'You're right.' He nodded. 'I would never forgive myself if the damage spread.' He finally released her shoulders, seeming to come to a decision. 'You need treatment.'

The original glow of triumph was fast fading from Minerva's expression as she interpreted the grave look in Albus's. She shook her head, a small incredulous smile on her face, 'Tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking.'

***

Minerva hadn't been able to concentrate all day. Never in her seven years at Hogwarts had time acted so peculiarly. Every lesson seemed to drag on forever and yet the day was over before she was fully prepared for it. Transfiguration had been especially hard as she had to constantly stop herself from sending pleading looks in Dumbledore's direction. It had suddenly dawned on her that the man was quite as crazy as people thought he was. What he was proposing, no, not proposing – what he was actually going to do was confess all about their relationship to the last person in the world who'd understand. The one person Minerva was sure had never been in love in her life and would not think twice about having them both ejected from the school.  
She and Albus had argued until Minerva was blue in the face - and still no closer to convincing him that he was obviously having a hysterical reaction to the situation. Nothing she said could persuade him to change his mind. That hadn't stopped her from using every spare moment throughout the school day dashing back to his classroom to have another stab at it though. She'd begged, she'd pleaded, she'd threatened and finally she'd resorted to bribery, offering every enticement she could think of, all to no avail: he was proving to be just as stubborn as she was.

And now, here she was, sitting pretty while he did exactly what he'd promised to do last night… while he confessed to Madam Hopkins. As she shifted on the hard wooden chair outside the nurse's office Minerva wondered if it wouldn't be best to just conjure a spade and start digging now…

'If this is another example of your twisted sense of humour, Albus, I am not amused.' Madam Hopkins leant back in her seat, arms folded over her ample chest, giving Albus the no-nonsense glare she usually reserved for the students.

He shook his head, forcing himself to meet her eye though he felt like the twelve year old boy of yester-year who'd sat in this very room, eyes fastened to his shoe-laces as he'd scuffed his shoes on the worn linoleum tiles. 'This is no jest, Sara, I – we – need your help.'

The nurse's glare faltered for a moment in astonishment. Never in all her years did she think that Albus Dumbledore would be sat here narrating the tale of his affair with a student – granted a very intelligent, mature student but a student none-the-less! Albus Dumbledore, the epitome of gentlemanly decorum, who hadn't so much as been on a date in three years, involved with the Head Girl of Hogwarts? Impossible! 'Do be serious.' Was all she managed to splutter.

She waited impatiently for him to break into a smile, to admit that it was some crazy joke – she even glanced at the calendar in the hopes that it was the first of April. Albus kept a stubborn silence, waiting patiently for her to wrap her mind around the truth of the matter. He was not entirely sure that she wouldn't simply turn them over to Dippet. His only ray of hope was that he had known Sara Hopkins most of his life and they were good, if unlikely, friends. If anyone would help them it would be her.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence she finally squawked, 'How could you be so stupid? For Morgana's sake, Albus, she's a student! A student! You've got witches practically lining up outside your door! How could you – why would you – of all the idiotic things to do!'

Albus was suddenly very glad he'd cast a silencing charm on the room; with the way she was carrying on half the school would have heard her. He was also grateful that Minerva wasn't privy to the sound bollocking he was getting, he did have some pride. 'Are you finished?' he asked when she paused for breath.

She shot him a murderous look, 'Oh I haven't even started!' she promised. 'You're four times her senior. I never thought that you, of all people would abuse your position in such a way! She's only eighteen – barely more than a child! To take advantage of –' she stopped abruptly when Albus shot angrily to his feet.

'I did not – I would never – how could you think…?' the words seemed to fall over each other, fighting for priority. He stopped himself before he said something he would regret, turning to face the door, trembling with fury at the raw nerve she had touched. It was what everyone would think, wasn't it? That he had taken advantage of a student for his own nefarious purposes. Had he not questioned the morality of his actions a thousand times himself? And yet it hurt to hear the words from the mouth of a friend.

Sara looked as though she'd received a heavy blow to the head, robbed momentarily of speech as Dumbledore's anger dissipated, shoulders slumped in defeat and he returned to his seat. 'Oh, Albus…' she murmured sadly. 'You stupid, foolish old man…' she closed her eyes as if in pain.

'Yes, I think we already covered that salient point.' He murmured. He felt awful. When it had simply been him and Minerva it had been so effortless, so easy to disregard the age-gap. That she was a student and he a professor hadn't mattered because they were too busy enjoying being together but in the cold light of other people's opinions his confidence was nose-diving faster than a Wronski Feint.

As loathe as he was to admit it, he'd never placed himself in such a morally questionable position before and while he was usually the cool-headed one in a crowd he found that he was handling the situation poorly. He was forced to conclude that he wouldn't feel this way if somewhere deep down he wasn't ashamed of their relationship.

He didn't like it. Albus Dumbledore didn't do ashamed.

'How long?' Sara's question broke into his ever-more depressing thoughts.

'How long what?' he asked resignedly.

Her usually strict demeanor had evaporated in the face of his obvious pain, after all, people didn't become Healers because they liked seeing others suffer. Unfortunately there wasn't a lot she could do for love-sickness. 'How long have you been in love with her?'

He stiffened at her words, caught off-guard. He turned them over in his mind. How much more emotional raking he could take he wasn't sure. What remained of his composure seeped out of him leaving him feeling utterly desolate at the pity in her words, as if he could never hope to have his love returned. Maybe he was a foolish old man. 'Will you help Minerva?'

She studied him for a moment, taking in the slump of his shoulders, the worry evident in his cloudy blue eyes. She gave in with a short nod of consent. 'I'll try.'

It was the least she could do.

***

Minerva's heart leapt up into her throat when the door to the office swung open, revealing a grim Madam Hopkins. She jumped to her feet, wide green eyes following the nurse's progress onto the main ward uncertainly until Albus appeared. He nodded, squeezing her shoulder with a reassuring smile and gesturing for her to follow Sara. 'I'll wait here.'

Swallowing her apprehension as best she could, Minerva did as she was bade, perching on the edge of one of the pristine white beds. The curtains had been pulled around, obscuring them from prying eyes. She flinched when Hopkins rapped her over the head, a little harder than was necessary, with her wand. It felt like her brain was melting, about to pour out of her ear, and while it wasn't painful it was highly unpleasant. She tried to clamp her hand over her ear but it was promptly slapped back down.

She bit back an indignant comment, sitting up a little straighter, wishing the examination could just be over. She couldn't fail to notice the less than genial looks the nurse was giving her and yet she couldn't place exactly what those looks were trying to convey. One moment she thought it was anger, the next curiosity, accusation, disbelief. She couldn't figure it out. She disapproved, that much was obvious, but there was something else and she got the feeling that it was less to do with her and more to do with Albus.

She stifled a gasp as a thin stream of silver vapour poured out of her ear – at least she assumed it was coming from her ear – and coalesced into a shining sheath of parchment that Madam Hopkins plucked out of the air. She 'hmmed' and 'ahhed' until Minerva's nerves could stand it no longer. 'Well?'

She'd been trying to decipher the strange swirling multi-coloured mist wafting across the page and was no closer to understanding that than being able to speak Mermish.

Sara gave her a stern look that clearly stated she should hold her tongue or risk having it jinxed off. It was not her natural inclination to be helping them at all let alone brook the impatience of a foolish school-girl who'd gotten it into her head to seduce the deputy headmaster of the most prestigious school in Europe. She checked the parchment one more time before crushing it into smoke. She pulled back the curtains, gesturing for Albus to come in.

Minerva slid off the bed, standing a respectable distance from Dumbledore. Madam Hopkins pursed her lips. 'Well the good news is that you didn't erase the memories completely.' She threw a reproachful look in Albus' direction who was too busy being relieved to notice. 'There is a treatment. Unfortunately Hogwarts is not equipped to administer it.'

'What do you mean?' asked Minerva, clearly horrified. It had not occurred to her that Madam Hopkins, as acerbic and unsociable as she was, would not be able to help her. 'Why can't you do it?'

Albus could feel Sara bristling, as if Minerva had questioned her very competence as a Healer, and stepped between them, placing a quieting hand on Minerva's shoulder. This seemed to irk his old friend even more as she ground out, 'The memory is a very tricky area to treat. It requires a specialist – unless you would rather risk losing another chunk of your life?'

Dumbledore cut in before Minerva could respond. 'Saint Mungo's, I presume?'

Madam Hopkins was looking surlier than ever as she wrenched the curtains back, tying them with a flick of her wand. 'The sooner, the better.'

***

Minerva felt like a drowned rat. It had been tipping it down ever since she reached London, soaking through the feeble Muggle skirt and blouse she'd been forced to wear as quickly as it had soaked the so-called 'raincoat' Albus had transfigured for her. She felt a sudden jolt of anger at the thought of Albus; he'd promised to meet her in the Leaky Cauldron at eleven but after half an hour of waiting Minerva had been forced to leave without him or risk missing her appointment with the Memory specialist.

He knew what time she had to be there though and she held fast to the hope that he would be waiting for her with a bloody good excuse. She sneezed, almost up-ending herself as the ridiculous high-heeled shoes slipped on the waterlogged pavement. Heeled shoes were all well and good for parties and formal occasions but she always had difficulty when faced with uneven ground. Luckily a passing gentleman caught her arm before she surrendered to the highly embarrassing predicament of being knocked on her ass in the middle of a busy street. She sent him a grateful smile, pulling a lace handkerchief out of her pocket. 'Thankyou.'

He gave her a toothy smile, doffing his hat. 'You're welcome, miss.' He nodded, surprising her with a soft American accent, before carrying on his way. Probably one of the G.I.'s sent over to join the Muggle war effort.

It was another ten minutes before a thoroughly disgruntled Miss McGonagall reached St. Mungo's shivering with cold. She'd managed to break her heel, wedging it in the crack between two paving slabs, and had to duck into a public toilet to repair the damage before half-running the rest of the way for fear she'd be late, only to find that the healer she was supposed to be seeing was held up on an emergency. On top of all that, Albus was nowhere to be seen. This was shaping up to be a bad day.

She climbed the stairs, cutting a wide birth around a man on the third floor who'd sprouted three extra arms and was using them to full advantage on any female who came within arms reach. Not that she couldn't handle herself but she thought it foul-play to jinx a hospital patient – no matter how uncouth. She pushed through the double doors on the fourth floor labelled 'Spell Damage', her feeling of dread growing with every step she took down the long corridor. She hated hospitals. She began reading the signs she passed in an effort to distract herself. The Regis Bubkis Ward, Horatio Haughton Ward, Janus Thickey Ward, she had just passed the Edgar Winkleby Ward when she heard someone call her name.

She turned around to glare soundly at Albus as he rushed towards her. 'Am I late?'  
'Don't tell me that the great Albus Dumbledore can't tell the time?' she said, planting her hands on her hips.

'I'm sorry, my meeting with the Minister took longer than I thought.' How could she argue with that? If the Minister for Magic himself wanted Albus' time, how could she be angry that he wasn't here with her? She told herself that she was being too clingy, shrugging off the feeling of neglect. He was here now and that was what mattered. 'Have you spoken with the Healer yet?'

'No, apparently there's been an emergency.' She rolled her eyes, continuing on down the corridor. 'So what did our esteemed head of state want?'

'It seems there is a situation brewing in Eastern Europe.'

'And they're in need of your diplomatic skills?' His eyes flickered from sign to sign, landing on 'incorrectly applied charms' and he steered her into a small waiting room.

'Not exactly.' He admitted but didn't elaborate further and she let the subject drop. She shivered again, pulling out her wand to cast a drying charm on her clothes. Seeing that Albus was quite as bedraggled as she, she decided to wring him out too. He smiled, giving her an appraising look as they sat down on the thinly padded wooden seats. 'How are you feeling?'

She cast him a side-long look. 'I'm not ill, per se.' she reminded him.

'That's not what I meant. You seem tense.' He observed.

'The last time I was in hospital I had third degree burns.' She grimaced. 'Not a good memory.'

'What happened?' he shifted in his seat, curiosity piqued.

'It was stupid. I was six years old and wanted to go seen nanny Mac but dad said he didn't have time today, we'd have to go another day. Well I didn't think much of that and decided I'd just Floo over by myself – I'd done it with dad often enough.' She looked at Albus, wondering if he'd figured out her near fatal mistake. 'I forgot the Floo Powder.'

He closed his eyes, horror-struck. 'Oh no.'

'Oh yes,' she nodded. 'I was here for a month, smothered in ointment every two hours. It was four years before I used the Floo network again.'

'I'm surprised you use it at all.'

'I'm not overly fond of it but traveling can be quite difficult otherwise. I was glad to get my Apparation Test.'

He plucked her hand out of her lap, pressing it between his own. 'Try not to worry too much. I'll be right here, I'm not going anywhere.' He promised.

'Minerva McGonagall?' she looked up to see a blonde witch in her fifties looking at her over the top of her clipboard. It was a stupid question really considering she had an appointment and was the only person, save for Albus, in the waiting room. She diplomatically decided not to voice this opinion and nodded instead. The healer's gaze flickered to their entwined hands and she shot a look of deepest disgust at Albus before saying, 'I'm Healer Mederi. If you'd like to follow me.'

Albus could feel the indignation radiating off Minerva in waves as they stood. Her cheeks were flaming as she opened her mouth to retaliate but Albus shook his head, relinquishing her hand to give her a gentle nudge after the Healer. They found themselves in a small examination room, seating themselves before a cluttered desk. 'I received a letter from your Healer at Hogwarts…' she rifled through the papers on the desk, pulling out Minerva's file. 'I see she's diagnosed Cataracta Memoria – cascade memory failure.' She added at Minerva's confused expression. 'I'm afraid that the treatment can be quite unpleasant for some people. Of course it differs from patient to patient.'

'What is the treatment?'

'You'll need to take a memory draught – that's the easy part. Unfortunately it won't just return lost memories. You'll be reliving your entire life, starting with the earliest, working your way back up to the present day. As I said, this can be unpleasant but it's the only way to retrieve the lost memories. Of course,' she added almost conspiratorially, steadfastly ignoring Dumbledore's presence, 'no one's saying you have to go through with the treatment. You won't lose anymore memories and I dare say the ones you have lost,' she glanced down at Madam Hopkins letter, 'are no great loss.'

'I want the treatment.' Minerva said immediately through gritted teeth, more out of anger than anything else.

'Minerva, think about this.' Albus said quietly. 'You should take your time, take as much time as you need.'

Minerva turned to look at him defiantly, repeating, 'I want the treatment.' Albus sighed. The Healer wasn't making things easy. Minerva was likely to do anything if she was riled enough and he wanted her to make an informed decision.

'Well, you've certainly done a good job on her, haven't you?' Muttered Mederi. Albus could have slapped his forehead.

'Perhaps you should stick to Healing and keep your opinions to yourself.' Suggested Minerva icily.

Mederi pursed her lips, declining further comment but sending another disdainful look at the Deputy Headmaster. Minerva seemed to struggle with herself. Her hand was clenched on the wand in her pocket and she would have dearly loved to turn the Healer into an amoeba. Unfortunately if she did that there was every chance she wouldn't be getting her treatment any time soon. She took several deep, calming breaths and counted to ten. When she was sure of her control she said, 'Shall we get started then?'


	5. Chapter 5

Comfort Paeryttus was late. The kids had taken it upon themselves to make as much trouble as possible before their father discovered his wand was missing and by the time they'd rounded up the gang of moles trying to burrow through the floor of the dining room and caught the cat (which was bouncing around the living room) she'd had to rush off without so much as a bite of dinner. She'd left her husband to clean up the mess and discipline the triplets.

'Where have you been?' Mederi seized her by the elbow the moment she walked into the office, pulling her over to peer through the treatment room door which was still swinging from her swift exit.

'Evening, Delores.' Comfort saw a familiar figure sitting at the bedside of a young woman she didn't recognise. 'Is that-?'

Mederi nodded, 'None other. Took me a while to place the face but it's him alright.' Her eyes shone with indecent smugness of a woman with gossip to share.

Comfort shrugged off her cloak. 'What's he doing here?'

A very dark look crossed the middle-aged witch's face. 'You see the girl? She's a Hogwarts student, here for a memory charm gone wrong.'

'Nice of him to come with her.' She observed, rummaging in the desk drawer for her name tag.

'Nice nothing – it was his wand-work that put her here!'

Comfort frowned. 'He's the Transfiguration Professor, what's he doing with memory charms?'

'Well that's the thing, isn't it?' she gave Comfort a significant look.

'Don't be ridiculous!' she laughed, 'Albus Dumbledore? I had him when I was at school, he'd never-'

'I wouldn't be so sure if I was you. Had a letter from that Hogwarts Healer.'

'I doubt Madam Hopkins wrote to tell you that Dumbledore's having an affair with a student.' She scoffed.

'Not in so many words but it wasn't difficult to read between the lines and you should see the way he is with her,' she sniffed as though there were a bad smell under her nose. 'It's disgusting.'

Paeryttus stifled a sigh. There was a reason she worked opposite shifts to Delores. The woman was a great Healer but she was also highly opinionated and a gossip to boot. She looked through the door again, catching sight of the swirling display on the wall that was the patient's memory. 'How long's she been under?' she asked. The sooner she got the information she needed the sooner she could send the older witch on her way.

'Nearly six hours now.'

'And she's how old?'

'Eighteen.'

'Still a few hours to go then,' she nodded to herself, lifting her apron down from the cupboard door. 'You'd better get going. You want to get home before the black-out.'

Mederi was already getting her cloak on. She shot one last malevolent look at the door before bidding Comfort goodnight and disappearing.

Dumbledore looked up in greeting when she entered. He was exactly as she remembered him, same long auburn hair and kind blue eyes. 'Miss Rhodan.' He nodded. Same excellent memory too.

'Actually it's Mrs. Paeryttus now, Professor.' She couldn't help but steal a look at the way he held the girl's hand and wondered if Mederi hadn't been right. Still, it wasn't her place to judge, just to treat.

She retrieved the file hanging on the end of the bed, reading through "Minerva McGonagall's" notes.

He smiled and nodded, 'My mistake.' She thought he was about to say something else but his attention was diverted by a soft murmur from the sedated Miss McGonagall. He ran his thumb along her hairline, whispering soothing nonsense until her brow smoothed again.

«»

It felt as if thousands of eyes were watching her though it was more like a few hundred. The boy before had been visibly shaking as he'd sat on the stool and been sorted into Hufflepuff. Minerva prayed that wouldn't be her fate too – her father had been in Ravenclaw as had his parents before him and she couldn't bear the thought of having to tell him she was a Hufflepuff. Still, better that than Slytherin. Her stomach was churning so violently as she made her way forward she was afraid she was going to throw up all over the deputy Headmaster.

She perched straight-backed on the three-legged stool and the battered old Sorting Hat was lowered over her eyes. 'Ah, another McGonagall.' It drawled in her ear. 'I see you've inherited the keen mind, a thirst for knowledge … yes you're a smart one alright – you'd do very well in Ravenclaw, very well indeed … but there's more too …'

Minerva swallowed, her lips pressed so tightly shut against the nausea they were colourless.

'Courage. You're not the type of person to let fear stand in the way of your ambitions… I think you'd do best in … GRYFFINDOR!'

She almost fainted off the stool in relief. She could live with being a Gryffindor.

«»

Albus had been sitting for over seven hours and was finally forced to admit defeat; his bladder refused to be ignored any longer. 'Which way to the bathroom?' he asked the young healer, stretching as he stood.

'Back the way you came and up to the next floor. You can get yourself a cuppa while you're up there.' She suggested with a smile. 'Canteen's opposite the toilets.'

Albus looked down at Minerva. It was abundantly obvious to Comfort that he didn't want to leave her that long. 'Am I permitted to bring hot drinks in here?' he asked.

'Not usually but I'll make an exception just this once.' She allowed, glancing up at the wall-chart and adding another note to her clipboard.

'Can I get you anything?'

'Oh no, thank you.' She waved away the kind offer. 'The staff tea-trolley'll be around soon, I expect. Hopefully with a few cakes.' She rolled her eyes ruefully, 'Took a while to catch the cat and by the time we'd rounded up the moles I'd missed dinner.' As if to emphasise the point her stomach gave a loud rumble.

He nodded sagely as if this kind of thing was a common occurrence but being that he was deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts, it probably was. 'Mole herding can often be time consuming.' He agreed with a ghost of a smile. 'I'm sure I could procure a sandwich? Or a pasty?' he tempted.

Finally she gave in with a smile, 'I'll have what you're having.' She conceded, knowing he probably hadn't eaten anything himself all day.

He nodded before bending over Minerva, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 'I won't be long.' He promised.

Comfort stared after his retreating back thoughtfully. Over the past hour she'd seen him bestow more caring on Miss McGonagall – who was completely unaware of his constant presence at her side – than most wives got from their husbands in a week. At first she'd entertained the thought that he had only accompanied his student to cover his own mistake or to alleviate his conscience but the longer she saw them together the more she realised that Mederi couldn't have been more wrong.

While it seemed to be a growing trend amongst older wizards to find themselves a young witch to hang off their arm, it seemed to her that these two were together despite the age difference not because of it. Of course she had no idea how her patient viewed the relationship but Professor Dumbledore obviously cared a great deal for her.

She looked over at Minerva who was smiling faintly.

«»

'… And Ripley drops the Quaffle, Preglow catches it and he's heading for the Slytherin Keeper …'

Minerva twisted round on her broom, watching as Winston Preglow streaked up the field, dodging a Bludger by the skin of his teeth, skirting around one of the Slytherin Beaters…

' Rudolphin lunges – he misses! Seventy-forty to Gryffindor!' The stands thundered with screams of applause, red and gold banners flying.

Minerva continued to circle the game from above, passing her opposite number going in the other direction. 'Gryffindor Quidditch players must be thin on the ground if they've got you playing, Mc-Know-It-All!'

'Very witty.' She retorted. 'Bet it took you all day to come up with that!' If he'd made a comeback she never heard for she'd just spotted the Snitch flitting around the base of the Gryffindor goal-posts. She shot into action, diving through the scrabble of players fighting for the Quaffle, the Slytherin Seeker hot on her tail.

She hit the ground with a sickening crack as her leg gave way but she had it. She held up the Golden Snitch, struggling in her clenched fist, to a tumultuous roar from the packed stadium.

'And Gryffindor's new Seeker proves she's not just a pretty face scoring one-hundred-and-fifty points for Gryffindor! Gryffindor win – two-hundred-and-twenty to forty!…'

«»

'Shouldn't be much longer now.' Comfort assured Dumbledore. 'We usually say it's an hour for every two years of the patient's life and she's been under for just over nine hours now.'

'Has she reached the lost memories yet?'

Comfort shook her head, pointing at the wall-chart. 'You see these dull areas? They represent memories that aren't accessible to the conscious mind. Everybody has them but usually they're old memories, things we forget over time as opposed to suppressed by a spell.'

Albus eyed the chart. The entirety was glowing brightly save for the part the Healer had just pointed out. 'Does that mean she has perfect recall of her entire life?'

'For the time being.' She nodded. 'But her brain will sort through all the memories in the next few days, deciding which information is pertinent to the present day, and any "irrelevant data" will be filed back into her long-term memory.'

'Amazing.'

'Mmm.' She agreed. 'There's still so much we don't know about the human brain, which makes it a tricky area to work in, but I like a challenge. I think they're doing research at the Ministry,' she rolled her eyes. 'Or so I've heard. Sometimes it's hard to sort fact from rumour when it comes to the Department of Mysteries.' She checked the chart again. The edges of the dark areas were just beginning to brighten.

She turned to tell the professor as much but his gaze was fixed on Minerva's, whose expression had flickered from anger to joy to sadness. From the look on Dumbledore's face he knew what she was going through as her eyes sped back and forth beneath closed lids and she gave her widest smile yet.

«»

She felt tears starting to prick her eyes. She couldn't stand here all night, praying that he would answer the door. If he hadn't answered by now… she turned to leave.

And the door opened.

She was in his arms before the door had clicked shut behind her, his lips on hers. She dropped the decoy homework she'd been carrying in case anyone asked her why she was outside the Deputy Headmaster's door, hands gripping the front of his robes as they had that afternoon in his classroom. He broke the kiss much sooner than she would have liked and she gave a soft moan of frustration.

'We have to be careful.' He whispered, leading her away from the door. 'If we're caught…'

'I know, I know,' she said, unbuttoning her cloak and throwing it over the back of the sofa. 'All hell will break loose.' She smiled. She couldn't help herself, couldn't quite believe that she was here again. A second chance to be more than a one night stand. She stepped close to him, hands reaching for his face.

He looked stern for a moment, halting her hands with his own. 'I'm serious.'

She forced herself to be solemn as she said, 'I understand. I always have. I just happen to think you're worth the risk.'

Her heart did a little back-flip as his eyes searched hers and he smiled. 'Just checking.'

She grinned in return, 'Nothing wrong with double-checking … Albus.' The name sounded strange on her tongue but she couldn't very well continue to cry out 'sir'. He released her hands and they cupped his face, guiding him into another kiss.

«»

'Minerva? Can you hear me, sweetheart?' Comfort rubbed her knuckles over the back of Minerva's hand in an effort to wake her. She was being stubborn. 'Come on, open your eyes, that's a girl.'

Dumbledore was standing back out of the way. Minerva's treatment had ended half an hour ago but it seemed she was reluctant to return to the land of the living. Her eyes flickered open for a moment before she drifted off again.

'Minerva, come on, honey,' she said a little louder, switching to rub her knuckles over her breast-bone instead. 'If you don't wake up on your own I'm gonna have to give you some Alacritas Potion and you won't like that.' She turned to Albus. 'Is she usually a heavy sleeper?'

'No. Is something wrong?' he took half a step forward in concern.

She looked over her patient notes again, checking the dosage of sleeping potion. 'Sometimes it takes a little longer for patients to come round. I'm not too concerned for the moment. There is some response to pain stimuli.'

Albus couldn't quite dismiss the "for the moment" she'd tacked on the end but resisted the urge to attempt to shake Minerva awake himself as Healer Paeryttus went back to rubbing her chest. 'Talk to me, Minerva. I know this hurts, wake up and shout at me…' She shook her head, checking her watch. 'Okay, time's up, sweetheart. You leave me no choice.' She pulled a small crystal phial out of her apron pocket.

'What is that for?' Albus asked, eyeing the substance warily as she pulled out the stopper.

'Alacritas Potion.' She grimaced. 'It's the magical equivalent of a bucket of cold water and ten cups of coffee.' She gave Minerva one last shake, one last chance to come round independently, before opening her mouth and pouring several drops of the thick black liquid onto her tongue. Albus moved closer but Paeryttus held out her arm to stop him. 'Stand back a sec.' She warned.

The effect was electric. Minerva gave a great gasp, bolting upwards so fast he was sure she'd momentarily left the bed. She flailed, almost throwing herself on the floor before Comfort rushed forwards, taking her by the arms. 'It's okay, Minerva. You're at St. Mungo's.' she explained quickly, looking over her shoulder at Dumbledore for help.

'Minerva, it's me, you're safe, I'm here…' he reassured her, holding her firmly by the shoulders as Comfort stepped aside. It took Minerva a few seconds more to get her bearings, before she let her head fall against his shoulder, sucking in long deep breaths.

'Albus?' she gasped.

'Yes, my dear?' he asked, stroking her hair.

'What the hell was that?' she demanded softly.

Comfort chuckled, 'Sorry about that.' Minerva turned towards the unfamiliar voice.

'Where's Healer Mederi?'

'She went off-duty. I'm Comfort Paeryttus, I've been looking after you.' She pulled out her wand, 'I just need to do a quick diagnostic.' She tapped Minerva on the head, checking her vitals on the piece of parchment which appeared a moment later. She gave a satisfied nod. 'Looks good.' She smiled. 'We had a bit of trouble bringing you round after the procedure; I had to give you some Alacritas Potion which, while unpleasant, seems to have done the trick. It's a bit of a shock to the system.' She commiserated.

Minerva gave a shaky laugh. 'You're telling me.'

'How are you feeling?' she turned back to Albus and the worried blue eyes fastened on her.

She rubbed her head. It felt fit to burst. There were so many thoughts and memories swirling around in there that it was difficult to pick a single one out of the kaleidoscope. 'Full.' She answered honestly.

'That's to be expected at first. Things will settle down in a couple of days.' She explained. 'Now shall we see if we've done our job right?' she flipped through her file until she found the letter from Madam Hopkins. 'According to this the first memory you lost was on the seventeenth of February, so I want you to focus on that date for me.'

Minerva closed her eyes and concentrated. A series of images flashed through her brain: breakfast, potions, Transfiguration, break, Ancient Runes, lunch, double Arithmancy, dinner, arguing with Albus in his private rooms … she opened her eyes again, blushing. She looked shiftily at Albus. 'I think I remember, um, everything…'

Comfort stifled a grin. It must have been one hell of a memory; she suspected if she turned off the lights the girl would glow in the dark. 'Okay, we'll just check a couple more dates to be sure. The sixth of March.'

Minerva closed her eyes again, this time ready for the onslaught of images. She flashed through the school day, slowing down when she reached the end of her last class: Transfiguration. She was trying to convince Albus to teach her to be an Animagus and… oh…

She cleared her throat. 'Yes, er, that seems to be in order.'

Albus chuckled, squeezing her shoulder. She tried to scowl at him, failing miserably as a reluctant and terribly embarrassed smile broke out. She buried her head in his shoulder again and he rubbed her back empathetically.

'Okay, last one.' Said Comfort, her voice choked with laughter. Poor Minerva. There were certainly some scenes with her husband she wouldn't be able to relive without turning the same beetroot red that Miss McGonagall was currently modelling. 'The seventh of April, last Friday.'

Minerva kept her head against Albus' shoulder, sure he could feel the heat radiating off her. 'Okay.' She mumbled.

It was both nice and mortifying to finally know what had happened that fateful night through her own eyes. She'd tripped! Of all the stupid, ridiculous things to do. She'd jeopardized everything with one brainless slip. It seemed even worse now that she had access to all the details and she shook her head, lifting it to send Albus an apologetic look. 'I remember. Wish I didn't – I feel like a prize idiot.'

'It was an accident.' He rubbed her arm. 'Could've happened to anyone.'

'I don't see anyone else having to go through memory recall because they tripped and knocked themselves out on a chest of drawers. Oh, Albus…' she laughed miserably. 'We made a mess, didn't we?'

'We did at that.' He agreed.

'Sorry to interrupt but I've just gotta run down the side-effects list and then you're free to go.' Said Comfort holding out a scroll of parchment.

'Sorry.' Minerva apologised, sitting up a little straighter on the bed as she took the scroll.

'Not at all. Now, your memory's going to be over-sensitive for a few days so, I know it's difficult, try not to think too much.' She smiled. 'As you've just experienced something as simple as a date will trigger all the memories connected to it which can be disorientating so I also want you to put your feet up for the next three days.'

'I think you've just hit on the two things she likes to do least.' Dumbledore smiled, despite the pointed look Minerva was giving him.

'Usually we'd oversee your aftercare here but I can't have you traveling from Hogwarts every day. I'll be sending a letter to Madam Hopkins – you'll need to see her daily for the next week. Now, I'm guessing here but I think I'd be right in saying that you've been keeping this quiet?' she waited for them to confirm her suspicions. 'My problem is that I need someone to watch you for the next forty-eight hours and I don't think you're going to be able to do that given your position,' she said, looking at Albus. 'Is there a friend you could confide in? Someone you can trust? If not I'll have to insist that you remain in the hospital wing at Hogwarts until Monday.'

'Why?' she asked.

'It's quite common for patients to "zone out" after this kind of treatment. Usually it lasts a couple of minutes and looks like catatonia to the outside observer. For you it means you thought too much and are cycling through some memories. These attacks will become less frequent as time goes on. There have been cases where a patient has hit on a "train" of thought and gets so drawn in that they believe what they're experiencing is real. That's okay when you're sedated and being watched but left to your own devices you could find yourself leaping out of a window or something. If that happens you're gonna want someone to stop you and if worst comes to worst, sedate you.'

Minerva looked at Albus, not sure she wanted to confide their affair in anyone else at this point. 'We'll talk about it when we get back.' Said Albus, before turning to the Healer. 'I'll see to it that she follows orders.' He assured her.

'Good. Right, I'm going to give you a bottle of sedative which should last you three days, barring any emergency use. I want you to take half a cup every night when you go to bed which will stop you wandering off in the middle of the night. A quarter cup in case of emergency.' She instructed, handing Albus a bottle and measuring cup. 'Don't worry, this is all on the parchment I gave you. If you run out, Madam Hopkins will give you a top-up.'

'No thinking. Feet up for three days. Supervision for the next forty-eight hours. Potion every night and visit Madam Hopkins everyday.' Minerva rattled off, looking to Albus for confirmation. 'That everything?'

He nodded as did Madam Paeryttus. 'Great.' She nodded, walking around the bed to stand directly in front of Minerva. 'Okay, we'll just check that you're safe on your feet.' She held out her hands for Minerva to take, nodding for her to stand up. She complied, knees buckling slightly as her shoes hit tile.

'Oops.' She laughed nervously. Her legs felt like she'd been stood on a vibrating plate for an hour.

'That's alright. Take your time.'

Minerva sent a sheepish grin in Albus' direction who'd put down the objects in his hands in case he was needed to catch her. She took a deep breath and her first tentative step. She was a little wobbly but managed to keep her legs under her.

'Not quite there yet.' Said Comfort, helping her back onto the bed and looking at her watch. 'We'll give it another ten minutes and try again. Would you like something to drink?'

***

It was almost ten o'clock before they finally stepped out onto the darkened London streets. Dumbledore had Transfigured the heels off Minerva's shoes to help her walk though she had improved dramatically since her first shaky attempt. 'At least this gives me an excuse to hold your arm in public.' She laughed. She was still feeling a little giddy from the treatment as they headed towards Diagon Alley and their Apparation site.  
'Not that there's anyone around to see us.' Albus commented. They were in the midst of a blackout and very few people were on the streets.

Minerva tossed her hair. 'I'm going to enjoy it all the same if you don't mind.'

'I would not deny you your pleasure.'

'Really?' she said with a mischievous chuckle. 'I'll remember that.'

His moustache twitched. 'I'm sure you will.' They walked in silence for a while, marveling at the seeming desertion of the capital city. They passed a dozen shops that had been run out of business by the war.

It was outside one of these that Minerva stopped abruptly, pulling Albus around. 'I remember this.'

'Minerva,' Albus warned, 'you're not supposed to be "thinking", remember?'

But it was too late.

There was a glazed look about her and it was as if she'd forgotten to tell her legs to hold her up. 'Minerva?' He looped an arm around her waist, the other under her shoulder. 'Minerva.' he said more forcefully, giving her a gentle shake.

He swore under his breath. Asking Minerva McGonagall not to think was like asking a dragon not to breathe fire but she could have at least waited until they were back at Hogwarts before collapsing into a stupor. He sat her down gently on one of the shop doorsteps, deciding that if she did not snap out of it within five minutes he would just have to carry her the rest of the way to Diagon Alley.

He was lucky; he only had to wait three.

Minerva seemed to jump-start against his shoulder. She looked around in momentary confusion before climbing unsteadily to her feet. 'What is it? What's wrong?' he asked, but she shook her head violently, stalking away, stumbling on the uneven cobbles.

'Go back to Hogwarts.' She ordered in a tone of voice that brooked no disobedience. Luckily Albus seemed to be immune to this and he followed in her wake, attempting to catch her by the arm.

'Minerva, where do you think you are going? You're not well!' he protested. 'I can't just leave you here.'

'I'll be fine.' She argued, now half running.

He managed to get her by the elbow, spinning her around. 'Minerva, what has gotten into you?' he demanded.

She looked up at him with eyes full of heated tears and he could feel her trembling under his grip. 'What is it?' he asked gently. It tore at his heart to see her at the mercy of memories that could be years old and yet to her probably felt like they'd happened five minutes ago.

'Albus, I just … I just …' It seemed as though the words would choke her before they made it past her lips. She couldn't explain, not now, not yet. Not until she'd spoken to him. He'd lied to her and she was going to find out why. 'I have to go!' she wrenched her arm out of Albus' hand and, in the turn of a heel, vanished.

His reaching hand closed on empty air.


	6. Chapter 6

Persephone was actually doing homework and on a Saturday night no less. Mo had abandoned her for the attentions of Blake Johnson and was no doubt cloistered in a dark corner of the Three Broomsticks by now deeply engrossed in a game of tonsil hockey. Min on the other hand had disappeared that morning on a sudden trip to her fathers, which was odd considering that she was planning to spend part of the Easter holidays with him. Come to think of it, she'd been acting weird all week, almost being unseated by a bludger twice in their last Quidditch practice. For the first time in living memory Minerva's mind simply wasn't on school and yet no amount of prompting and prying had succeeded in wheedling a reason out of her.

Maverick leapt up on the table, interrupting her pondering and attempting to swipe the luminous green quill out of her hand. 'What? I've already fed you.' A fifth year at the next table over shot her an amused look. Maverick looked affronted. With Min away it had fallen on Persephone to look after the evil little cat. Okay, maybe 'look after' was a bit strong. Feed about summed it up. 'No.' she said firmly, 'I know you. I give you more and you'll end up puking it up on my bed.' She shook her head as the small black cat lay down resolutely on her Charms essay, flexing his claws menacingly.

Persephone dropped her quill, gingerly picking up the now hissing cat and carrying him at arms length to the portrait hole. 'Go catch some mice if you're still hungry.' She ordered, dropping him in the corridor. 'Go on.'

It was then that Professor Dumbledore came rushing up. 'Ah. Miss Maldoran, just the person.'

'Professor Dumbledore.' She winced when he nearly tripped over Maverick as he shot off up the corridor. 'Something I can help you with, sir?'

'You share a dormitory with Miss McGonagall, do you not?' she nodded, confused. 'I need you to find something of hers: a quill, a hair - preferably something she isn't going to miss - and bring it to me.' he asked quickly, out of breath from running the long drive up to the castle and the seven flights of stairs to Gryffindor tower.

Why on Earth would he want Minerva's things? The only reason that sprang to mind immediately was that personal belongings could often be used in spells and potions. Simply handing over something of Minerva's did not sit well with her, whether it would be missed or not. 'Sir, what's going on?' she fixed him with serious brown eyes, not budging. The Fat Lady made an impatient noise on the other side of the door.

'I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say,' he answered shortly, adding, 'and I must ask that you not discuss this with anyone either.'

She shook her head. 'But sir-'

'Time is of the essence, Miss Maldoran.' He said firmly and it was clear from his tone of voice that further discussion would be pointless.

Thoughts of mutiny rushed through her head; what if she were to give him something of her own instead? Then again, what if whatever Dumbledore was concocting was vital to Minerva and something horrendous happened because Sephy had meddled? She nodded slowly, obviously not happy with his request but unable to see a way around it. 'Yes, sir.'

It wasn't until five minutes after Professor Dumbledore's departure that the answer hit her. She jumped up out of her seat, slipping out through the portrait hole. If she wanted to know what was going on and ease the disquiet festering in her stomach all she need do was find out what he was up to…

***

Dumbledore was busy throwing potion ingredients into his cauldron when there was a knock at the door. 'Enter.' He called distractedly, glancing down at the open book on his desk before stirring the contents seven times anti-clockwise.  
'Ah, you're back.' Madame Hopkins closed the door behind her, coming to stand beside the table he was working at. 'I just spoke to the Healer at St. Mungo's, she just wanted to let me know everything had gone well. She's sending the full report by owl in a few hours…' She waited expectantly for him to give her a first hand account of how the treatment had gone but he seemed to be far more interested in whatever foul-smelling concoction it was he was brewing. She narrowed her eyes, 'You alright?' she asked.

'I'm fine, just a little busy at the moment.' He said, pouring a small jar of rat spleens into the mix. 'Was there something you wanted?'

'Just wondering how Miss McGonagall was…' she frowned, watching as he threw in several more ingredients. His hair was back in a ponytail, beard tucked into his belt to keep it from the flames licking the bottom of the cauldron. 'Are you sure you're alright?'

'I thought you said you'd spoken to Healer Paeryttus; were you not satisfied with her report?' he questioned, stirring seven times clockwise.

She shook her head, perplexed at his odd behaviour. 'The report was perfectly fine.'

He nodded absently. 'Well, if there's nothing else…'

'There is something I wanted to talk to you about.' She said, shifting from foot to foot. 'I didn't want to say anything before; I know how worried you've been over Miss McGonagall.' She sighed deeply, leaning against the desk. 'Look, I'm not going to beat about the bush. Albus, I want you to break it off with her.'

He looked up at her for the first time since she'd walked in. 'I beg your pardon?'

'I know you care about the girl but you must see that this can't continue. It isn't right. Aside from the risk you're putting yourselves at you've also put me in a very awkward position. If the pair of you get caught and they find out I knew about it…' she looked down at the tabletop. 'I'm sorry, Albus, but if you don't put a stop to it, I will.'

'Sara,' he protested. He really didn't have time to argue his case right now.

'It's only a few months until she graduates. If she truly cares about you, she'll wait but I just can't condone your behaviour. You're a teacher, Albus; she's your student.' She wrung her hands uncomfortably. She didn't like issuing him with an ultimatum like this but she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she stood by and did nothing. 'Promise me you'll stop seeing her.'

'Can we discuss this tomorrow?'

She shook her head. 'Nothing will have changed tomorrow. Promise me, Albus, or I'll have no choice but to take it to the Headmaster.' She said grimly.

He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If he refused to break it off with Minerva Sara would go to Dippet (she wasn't the type to bluff) and he could wave goodbye to his job. Minerva would be expelled from Hogwarts, essentially ending her ambition to become an Auror. It would seem that he had no choice. He had prepared himself for this possibility from the moment he had confided in Sara. At the time he had told himself that Minerva's health was worth it. There had been no other way; even if they'd gone straight to St. Mungo's a medical report would still have landed on Sara's desk with every likelihood that she would not be giving him a chance to end it on his own but turning him straight over to the Professor Dippet. At least this way they could be together after Minerva's graduation. What was three months?

He gave a curt nod. 'You have my word.' He agreed. It was only three months… so why did he feel like he'd just signed his life away?

'You're doing the right thing.' She assured him, looking thoroughly relieved that she wouldn't be having any uncomfortable discussions with the Headmaster in the near future. She peered into the simmering cauldron. 'Bit late to be brewing potions, isn't it?' she said, in an effort to lighten the mood.

'Not this one.' He said dourly, throwing in a handful of powdered Grantock root.

She wrinkled her nose, pulling her head out of the stream of steam now issuing from the bubbling goop. 'What is it?'

He glanced down at his book again. 'A Locator potion.'

'Oh. What have you lost?'

Dumbledore picked up the Eagle feather quill Miss Maldoran had provided him with. 'Minerva.'

Unbeknownst to either of them a stunned Persephone Maldoran was crouched, frozen with disbelief, with her ear to the keyhole. Minerva and Dumbledore..? This was a dream, a bizarre, twisted dream. She pinched herself and it hurt. So it was a painful dream, that was all. Her head was spinning. Min had been to St. Mungo's? And Dumbledore had gone with her? She pushed herself to her feet, hardly watching where she was going as she crept away up the deserted virtuous Minerva McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore… Ludicrous…

But Minerva had been spending a lot of time with him over the last couple of months, hadn't she? And now she came to think of it, she hadn't seen Min poring over any Animagi books as she was wont to do with her other subjects… She'd been in a ridiculously good mood, too, for somebody with a workload as heavy as hers.

Suddenly Persephone found herself wondering how she hadn't noticed anything sooner.

Then this week, she'd been distracted and told her closest friends that she was going to visit her father when really she was going to St. Mungo's for an appointment which must have lasted most of the day, judging by Dumbledore's late return. What was that all about? She stopped dead in her tracks – surely not… No Min would never be foolish enough… but then again, until ten minutes ago, she hadn't thought that Min would be sneaking around with a teacher behind everyone's backs…

No, she shook her head and carried on walking. Nobody was better with a wand than the Head Girl and the Pudicitia spell was relatively simple, albeit essential.

Then again it was easy to forget to do it in the heat of the moment, and why else would they both go to the hospital for the day? And Madame Hopkins kept asking Dumbledore if he was alright… Could it be possible – well of course it was possible…

But was it likely? Was Minerva, had Minerva been… pregnant?

Sephy swore vehemently under her breath. That girl had a lot of explaining to do when she got back…

***

Charles McGonagall was indulging in a spot of scotch before bedtime, reclining on the settee with the latest best-seller, "When Shadows Attack: A biography of Flavius Belby". It had been flying off the shelves at work (thankfully not literally which was more than could be said for "Mastering Flying Charms") and he was curious as to what all the fuss was about. He was just thinking about heading to bed when his daughter appeared, not three feet from where he was sitting.

'Minerva? What are you doing here? Why aren't you at school? Is something wrong?' he asked in quick succession, putting his glass down on a small table.

'You bet there's something wrong.' She said in a voice of deadly calm, leaving muddy footprints in her wake as she advanced to stand over her father. She hadn't made it the first time. She'd ended up apparating to a water-logged field over five miles away from her father's house. 'You've got some explaining to do.'

Charles was nothing if not confused. 'Explain what, exactly?' he asked, suddenly aware that the hair on his arms and legs was standing on end. The very air around him was crackling with undefined energy. 'What's wrong, love?' he asked, growing uneasy.

'Where's mum?' she asked, her face an impassive mask. Charles felt his stomach turn over at her words. He'd always known there was a possibility she would find out but had hoped against hope that this day would never come. He'd never seen her like this. Her eyes alone held any emotion and looked almost as black as her mood seemed to be.

'Minerva, you're scaring me.' he said, standing as the crackle increased in intensity.

Her lips tightened. 'Answer the question, dad.'

He reached out to touch her arm, 'Minerva – Ah!' he snatched his hand back as if he'd received an electric shock. The accompanying snap certainly suggested it. Uncontrolled magic was radiating off her like heat from a raging bonfire. 'Minerva…' he rubbed his tingling fingers.

'Answer the question.' She repeated, turning to pace the now filthy cream carpet, hands restrained behind her back.

'You need to calm down.' He flinched when she turned to look at him and the vase on the shelf behind him shattered, sending shards of pottery flying in every direction. He held up sweaty hands. 'I don't know where she is!' he admitted desperately, hoping that this declaration might be enough to assuage her fit of temper.

'You mean, she's not dead?' she asked, cocking her head slightly. 'Like you said, like you've been telling me for the past sixteen years?'

'Minerva, please, let me explain.' He said, gesturing for her to sit down, not daring to reach out to her again. She'd displayed signs of formidably powerful magic from a very young age but this was the first time he'd been on the receiving end. He wasn't eager to find out what it felt like to be a human lightning conductor. 'Please.' He pleaded.

Minerva knew she had to reign in her temper, was only too aware of the damage she could inflict if she couldn't regain some semblance of control. As angry as she was, as betrayed as she felt, she didn't want to be responsible for seriously injuring her own father. Or worse. If her newfound access to her memories had taught her anything, it was that a second of unrestrained magic was sometimes all it took to alter the course of ones life forever…

She closed her eyes, trying to center herself, taking deep, calming breaths. She could feel the vein in her temple throbbing. Her jaw ached where she'd been clenching her teeth so hard. 'You lied to me.' she said.

He sighed, shaking his head slightly. 'Look, I don't know how you found out but you don't know the whole story.'

'I think you'll find I know more than you think.' She said grimly, folding her arms.

'You were only a baby when she left. By the time you were three or four you couldn't even remember her and believe me you were better off for it.' Charles couldn't help the note of bitterness in his voice for his daughter had suffered Madeleine's departure more than he. If only he had known his wife's true disposition before they'd been married… but then he wouldn't have Minerva, nor the joy she had brought to his life since the day of her birth.

'So you thought you'd tell me she was dead?' she hissed, eyes alight with fury.

'The truth would only have hurt you!' he argued. 'I didn't know how to tell you. It was easier for you to think she was dead than that she'd just buggered off!' Though 'just buggered off' was not quite accurate.

'Easier? You think this is easy? Finding out now?' she shook her head, turning to stare out of the window at the endless expanse of black. Her reflection in the glass seemed to mock her, so much like the old photographs she'd seen of her mum…

He felt a surge of desperation. He could not bear the gulf that seemed to stretch between them. 'I did it to protect you, you have to believe that.'

'I don't have to believe anything you say.' she spat. 'You lied about this. Who's to say what else you've lied about?'

'Honey, it's me. You know me.' he attested.

'No,' she denied. 'I thought I knew you. There's a big difference.'

He swallowed the urge to cry out in frustration. 'You don't know what she was like-'

She cut him off with a curt wave of her hand. 'It doesn't matter what she was like. This is between you and me, it's got nothing to do with her.'

'It's got everything to do with her! If you understood what happened, maybe you wouldn't be heaping all the blame on me. She's the one who left, of her own accord. I tried talking to her but she wouldn't listen…' he ran a hand through his thinning blonde hair. 'You're a lot like her in that way.'

'I am nothing like her!' she exclaimed vehemently, the curtains spontaneously combusting. She stepped back, swearing as she pulled out her wand and hosed them down. 'Reparo.' She muttered, mending the fabric through a haze of steam. Good as new. She turned, pinning Charles with a cautionary glare. 'I am not my mother.' She repeated.

'Of course not.' He established, pocketing the wand he'd pulled out when the curtains went up in flames, surprised at her severe reaction to the comparison. 'Minerva, who have you been talking to? Who's told you all this?' he asked tentatively. He could think of few people who knew the truth and none who would relate it to her.

'Nobody's told me anything.' She answered testily, putting her wand away again. She returned to pacing.

What was that supposed to mean? If nobody had told her then how could she have found out? It wasn't as if there had been an ad in the Daily Prophet. 'I don't understand, how did you,'

'It's not important how I know, I just do. I know that my father has been feeding me a whopping great lie for years,' she said angrily, 'and don't give me that bullshit about it being for my own good again. You should have told me the truth.'

'It's so easy for you to stand there passing judgment on me, isn't it?' he exclaimed. 'The world isn't black and white, Minerva. It isn't just lies and truth, good and bad.'

'Spare me the philosophy lesson.' She responded insolently.

'Nobody's perfect.'

'I don't expect you to be perfect!' she cried, throwing her hands up. 'But I did expect you to be honest with me…'

The pain in her eyes tore at his heart, a pain that was of his own infliction. He'd crawl over broken glass if it could save her from an ounce of the devastation she was suffering now. Twenty-twenty hindsight was a bitter potion to swallow. 'Minerva, I'm sorry if I made the wrong decision.'

'You're only saying that because you got caught out. If I hadn't found out the truth on my own you would never have told me, would you?'

He supposed it was a valid question and yet he was sure she would not like the answer. He felt as if he were hammering the final nail into the coffin as he told her what she already knew, deep down in her heart. 'No. No I wouldn't have.' She shook her head, the disappointment in her voice like a dagger through his heart.

'Didn't think so.' She headed for the door then paused with her hand on the lock, turning back for a parting shot. 'Anything else I should know? You are my real father, right?' she asked with an unwonted desire to hurt him, to make him feel some of the pain she was feeling.

'What kind of question is that?' he asked, stung. 'Who bathed you and fed you and read you a bedtime story every night? Who was it that chased away the monsters under your bed and kissed every last cut and bump better? Who sat by your bed twenty-four hours a day with a cold flannel and sick-bowl when you were poorly? Me, that's who, so how dare you ask me that… Minerva?' Charles McGonagall hurried forwards as his daughter crumpled to the floor before his very eyes. 'Minerva!'

He waved a hand in front of her face, clicking his fingers, but couldn't provoke a response. 'Minerva, honey?' she hadn't fainted, of that much he was sure. She was slumped upright against the door, just staring; she didn't even know he was there. He lifted her into his arms and deposited her on the sofa. 'That was a lot easier when you were little.' He groaned, stretching his back.

He felt her forehead but she didn't have a temperature. He took out his wand, summoning his copy of Common Magical Ailments and Injuries from one of the many bookshelves lining the room and flicking to the symptoms page. He wasted tweny minutes searching the book end to end, finding nothing to explain what had happened to his daughter. He would have prefered it if she had fainted; fainting he could deal with and was rarely a symptom of anything worse than an empty stomach or stress. Stress would have been the easy answer and far less worrying than this listlessness. He had already thrown a pinch of Floo powder in the fire to contact St. Mungo's when there was a knock at the door.

'Mr. McGonagall?' he nodded, scrutinising a man and woman illuminated in the pool of light spilling from the open front door.

'Can I help you?' he asked, glancing back at Minerva in concern. The flames in the fireplace had lost their emerald glow in the absence of a command.

The elderly lady effected an introduction, 'I'm Madame Hopkins and this is Professor Dumbledore; we're from-'

'Hogwarts.' He nodded, recognition kindling in his face. 'I almost didn't recognise you, Madame Hopkins. Actually I could use your help, please, come in.'

'We're looking for your daughter...' she trailed off, spotting Minerva on the sofa and immediately going into action.

'Do you know what's wrong with her?' Charles asked, following in her wake and standing uncertainly to one side.

'Nothing life-threatening, sir.' She assured him, waving her wand over Minerva's head to run a diagnostic check. Charles couldn't help a brief smile. It was immensley strange to hear the nurse who'd once inspired such terror in him during his schooldays address him as 'sir'.

'So you do know what's wrong with her then?'

'I'm afraid I can't discuss my patient's condition with you except to say that she'll be right as rain in a few days.' She said, reading Minerva's vitals.

Charles stiffened at her words. 'What do you mean you "can't discuss your patient's condition with me"? Your patient is my daughter.' He protested.

'Perhaps we should give Madame Hopkins room to work.' Suggested Albus, speaking up for the first time. Being here, in the company of Minerva's father, gave him a nasty prickly feeling. It almost seemed to be deceitful to stand there as a concerned professor whan inside he had all the feelings of a man worried for his other half.

Mr. McGonagall didn't seem to think much of his idea and barely retreated two feet. Maybe he thought that if he stuck close enough he would find out what was going on anyway.

Minerva suddenly sat up under her own steam, knocking the piece of parchment out of Sara's hand, and Charles leapt forward, 'Minerva, honey, are you alright?'

'Daddy, why can't we go see Nanny Mac today?' she wheedled and Charles looked at Madame Hopkins in confusion.

'That's her great-grandmother. She's been dead four years.' He gazed back at Minerva in concern. She seemed to be as unaware of them now as she had been five minutes ago only now, they could observe her part in whatever she was experiencing.

Minerva crossed her arms huffily, watching someone only she could see exit the room. Albus felt a growing sense of unease as he remembered the conversation they'd had that very morning in the hospital waiting room. He silently prayed that this was another of the many visits she must have made to see 'Nanny Mac'. Sara had to hold her in her seat to stop her trying to reenact whatever it was she saw. 'Albus, my bag.' She ordered briskly. He scooped it up from the floor, snapping open the clasp. 'Sedative. There's a cup in there too, fill it to the first line.'

Charles watched the proceedings not sure whether to be demanding answers or praying for his daughters' health. The old nurse seemed calm enough but then he couldn't recall a time he'd ever seen her flustered. It was maddening to not know what was happening but any legal right he'd had over Minerva's life had been recinded the moment she turned seventeen.

Albus was halfway through pouring out the sedative when the most heart-breaking, gut-wrenching, ear-splitting scream he'd ever heard ripped from Minerva's throat and he poured a generous portion of the buttercup yellow liquid over his hand. Luckily what was already in the cup stayed there and there was enough left in the bottle to meet the required dose. 'Hold her down!' Sara shouted over the sound of Minerva's piercing shrieks. 'Hey! Snap out of it!' Charles was rooted to the spot with shock but the nurse's sharp rebuke brought him to heel. 'Hold her!' she ordered, indicating that he should take her place on the sofa as she took the cup from Albus.

It was a testament to Sara's Healing experience that she managed to administer the sedative while Minerva was screaming like a banshee. Albus was amazed when the patient fell unconscious less than thirty seconds later. Albus and Charles pulled away from the settee, more than a little shellshocked, as Madame Hopkins straightened out Minerva's robes. Charles swallowed, shaking from head to foot. 'I never thought I'd hear that again outside my nightmares.'

'Couldn't just stun her.' Madam Hopkins got to her feet, wishing it could have been that simple. She'd read Miss McGonagall's medical history and was sure only one incident could illicit screams like that. 'If I'd done that she would have stopped screaming but it would still be going on in her head and I wouldn't have be able to give her the sedative without her choking.' She looked at Albus. 'We should get her back to Hogwarts.' She said.

'I'm coming with you.' Charles said instantly, still trembling.

'There's nothing you can do for her tonight, Mr. McGonagall. I suggest you visit tomorrow afternoon when she's had a chance to rest.'

'I'm coming with you.' He reiterated firmly.

Madame Hopkins squared up and Charles felt that old familiar thrill of fear. 'Mr. McGonagall, I run a busy infirmary. If your daughter was in any danger rest assured that I would applaud your wish to be with her however, as I have already told you, she will be perfectly fine in a few short days. I realise what you've just witnessed has shaken you and you may of course visit her during the day if you wish but I simply cannot allow you to clutter up my ward tonight.'

Charles was silent for a moment. 'What time tomorrow?'

'Not a minute before one.'

***

It felt as if he'd only been asleep for five minutes when Professor Dumbledore found himself being stirred by a late night/early morning intruder – it depended on which way you looked at it. Of course that might have had something to do with the fact that he had only been asleep for five minutes. Minerva had woken in the infirmary in the dead of night and promptly made her escape, avoiding several close-calls with Hogwarts' resident ghosts on her way to his quarters. He'd given her the password two months ago so that she didn't risk being caught hovering outside his door.  
She crawled into bed beside him, laying her head on his chest. 'You're supposed to be in the infirmary.' He stated gently, wrapping warm arms around her none-the-less. 'You gave us quite a scare earlier.' That was putting it mildly. To be accurate you'd have to say that he had rarely been more terrified. He thought those screams would haunt him forever. 'Your father and I that is. Sara was wonderful. She took very good care of you.'

Her answer to this was to burrow deeper into his embrace. It wasn't until she sobbed that he realised she was crying. In all the years he'd known her he'd never seen her shed a single tear and yet now as his hand reached up in the darkness to stroke her cheek he found her face drenched with them.

'What has upset you?' he asked softly, tightening the arm around her shoulders.

'My m-mum isn't dead.' Her voice, rough from it's energetic exercise, hitched uncontrollably. She'd bypassed her feelings about her mother's miraculous non-death while dealing with her dad. At the time he'd been a convenient target, a more than worthy distraction. 'Dad li-ied.'

'I gather that's why you abandoned me in London.' He deduced accurately. Yes. She'd been so shocked at the time that her recuperation instructions had completely flown her mind.

'I was so a-angry with him.' Irate had been more like it. To discover that the person who'd raised you had been deceiving you most of your life was not something one usually took lightly.

'That's understandable.' He kissed the top of her head. '…He wants to see you tomorrow – or should I say, later today.'

He felt her shake her head. 'I don't want to speak to him.' She wasn't ready. It would only become a repeat performance of the fight they'd had earlier and neither of them wanted that.

'That's your choice.' She sighed and hiccupped before falling quiet. He shifted, turning to better comfort her, only too aware of the promise he had given Sara. It could wait. No power on Earth could induce him tell her tonight, not when she was so obviously upset.

Minerva slipped her arm under his, pressing her face into his shoulder. She felt better being here but couldn't help thinking about Madeleine McGonagall. It had been all well and good for Minerva to get on her high horse about truth and honesty but when it really came down to it there was a big part of her that wished she'd never found out. If she'd been in her fathers place she might have done the same thing because what she was feeling now she wouldn't inflict on her worst enemy.

Albus was just dropping off again when she spoke. He thought she'd fallen asleep. 'It's my fault she left.'

'I doubt that.' He said matter-of-factly. 'Children are very rarely to blame for the failure of their parents' marriage.'

She'd expected him to say something like that but for once he was wrong. 'Then this was one of those rare times.' She assured him. 'I remember it so clearly now. We were out shopping, that shop we saw earlier, I must have been two, and mum was looking at dresses.' It had been January, there were sales on in every store and her mum had been eager to take advantage of all of them – at least that's how it felt to her. Minerva was trailing in her wake, trying not to get trampled in the crush of people, a multicoloured bouncy ball clutched in her small hands. Albus remained quiet, gently rubbing a hand up and down her back.

'She'd gone to try one on and I was sat outside the changing room playing with this stupid rubber ball,' The floor of the shop had been chequered linoleum and perfect for bouncing her ball on. The trouble was, she hadn't quite mastered catching yet. She'd tucked herself into the corner just around from the changing room with strict orders not to move. The other shoppers didn't even notice the curly haired toddler sitting under a rail of winter coats. 'And it got away from me and this man – god, he looked about twenty feet tall to me – he stood on it and almost fell over. He got really angry and started shouting at me, scared the life out of me. I didn't mean to do it… I didn't mean it…' her voice croaked out and another small sob escaped.

It had been the first time Minerva's powers had asserted themselves and it hadn't been in a small way. The leviathan of a man had grabbed her by the front of her dress, lifting her several inches from the floor and in her terror she'd somehow managed to both free herself and send her attacker flying. 'Mum stuck her head through the curtain to see what all the fuss was about just in time to see me blast him over the shop counter… and she just looked at me like – like I was…'

Little Minerva had been just as shocked as everyone else by the sudden gravity defying behaviour of the eighteen stone man, so much so that she hadn't so much as whimpered at being dropped unceremoniously on the hard floor. She turned to ask her mum what had happened but pulled up short at the look of absolute horror on her face. It had reminded Minerva strongly of the look people sometimes got when they'd trodden in dog poo. That look had been the last her mother had ever given her, as if she were afraid to look her in the eye lest she suffer the same fate. Madeleine had gathered her things as quickly as possible, ignoring the muttering coming from all around, grabbed Minerva painfully by the arm and dragged her all the way home, her blouse half buttoned.

Albus was willing to bet that the look Mrs. McGonagall had bestowed on her daughter was not one of love and understanding. Her breath was coming in short sharp gasps as her composure utterly escaped her and she dissolved into a fit of crying the likes of which she hadn't known in many years. He could almost hear the sound of her heart tearing itself in two, helpless to do anything but make useless shushing noises and hold her as tightly as he could without breaking her.

It took Minerva almost twenty minutes to calm herself and she had given herself a terrible case of the hiccups. He handed her the handkerchief he kept under his pillow so she could wipe her face and blow her nose. When she spoke again it sounded like she had a particularly bad head cold. 'Dad never told her he was (hic) a wizard. She didn't know magic existed. She dragged me (hic) home. She said I was "w-wicked" and "unholy". I didn't know what I'd done, I didn't know that it had been me.' The front of Albus' nightshirt was thoroughly soaked by now but he hadn't a thought for it, he was too busy struggling with his extraordinarily unchristian thoughts towards Minerva's mother.

'By the time dad got home from work (hic) I'd been locked in my room for (hic) for hours. She'd tried tying me to the bars of my cot (hic),' Albus swore softly at this but Minerva seemed not to notice, lost in the memory. 'But the knots kept (hic) coming undone – more "unholy witchcraft". I couldn't understand why she (hic) didn't love me anymore, why she had left me (hic) in this dark room, why she didn't come when I was crying (hic) and crying for (hic) her…' she felt the lump in her throat constricting her airway, forcing her voice higher and higher before cutting it off completely again.

Albus was feeling rather choked up himself. 'Oh Minerva…' he whispered, resting his forehead against her crown.

'Dad tried to explain,' she continued when her voice was returned to her, free of hiccups. 'But when he told her that he was a wizard she packed her bags and ran for her life. We never saw her again after that…'

'It wasn't your fault.' he reiterated firmly. 'Not even close.'

'It doesn't really matter now anyway, does it? It was sixteen years ago.' She tried to recapture some of the burning anger she had been so keen to rid herself of earlier. Rage was a damn sight easier to handle than the awful empty hollow she was experiencing now. 'Old news.'

'It matters to you.'

She wished it didn't.

She shifted her head against his chest in search of a dry patch that wasn't there. 'I used to imagine that she was this wonderful person. That she would have read me bedtime stories and braided my hair and done all those other stupid mother-daughter things if she had a chance. Talk about shattering the illusion. She didn't even want me.'

'Her ignorance made her afraid and that fear caused her to miss out on being a part of your life. Believe me,' he whispered, stroking her hair, 'she missed out on something wonderful.'

'She wouldn't think so.' She knew she sounded like a petulant child but for once she didn't care.

'I know so and so does everyone who knows you. You are special, Minerva. I probably shouldn't tell you this,' he lowered his voice to whisper conspiratorially. 'But you are the brightest student to come through this school in quite a few years., which is quite beside the fact that you are warm and funny,'

'Albus.' She murmured, cutting him off.

'Mmm?'

'Just… hold me.' She sighed, curling her fingers through his beard. 'I don't need a pep talk.' She'd never been somebody who suffered from low self-confidence. She didn't want to hear that she was smart and funny. Her mother would never know these things. The woman who had brought her into the world, who was supposed to love her unconditionally didn't want to know that she was top of her year, ambitious and fiercely loyal. She didn't care that the child she had abandoned all those years ago had grown up to be almost the spitting image of her. She didn't care whether or not her daughter was happy and well. As far as Madeleine McGonagall was concerned she had no daughter.

And that was just something Minerva would have to learn to live with.


	7. Chapter 7

Persephone loved being a seventh year. It meant that you were top of the student pecking order, which was handy when you needed to shunt the lower classes out of the way to get where you were going that little bit faster. At this moment in time she was heading for the infirmary to pick Min up; of course with the mood Min had been in at lunchtime she might have started a duel with Madam Hopkins, in which case Sephy wouldn't be so much picking her up as scraping her up.

Not that she could blame her really; by all accounts Min had had a bad week and an even worse weekend. Sephy had pulled her aside for a private 'chat' the moment she'd been discharged from the infirmary and demanded to know if she was "pregnant with Dumbledore's lovechild". That had been the single time Min had laughed in the past twenty-four hours. She'd explained the situation and asked if Sephy minded babysitting her for a couple of evenings as she didn't fancy having to stay in the infirmary.

"I'm not surprised after what Hopkins said to Dumbledore last night." Persephone had immediately known that Minerva didn't have a clue what she was talking about. She felt a cold trickle of guilt, watching the colour drain from her best friend's face as she broke the news. "But I'm sure he just said it to get her off his back." She'd added, in a desperate attempt to inject a little hope into the state of affairs. It hadn't worked and Min had been sullen and snappish ever since.

Minerva was waiting on the bed nearest the door when she got to the infirmary and jumped up like a shot before Persephone had so much as put a toe over the threshold. 'About time!' she exclaimed, throwing her bag over her shoulder without a backward glance at the office. Looked like the School Nurse and Head Girl had avoided each other as much as possible. Probably for the best.

Persephone raised her eyebrows in a well excuse me position. 'The bell only went five minutes ago, keep your knickers on.'

Minerva seemed to know that she was being too brusque and attempted to modify her tone. It was with a controlled stiffness that she said, 'Let's just get out of here.' At least she was trying.

Sephy slipped her arm through hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

As far as she knew Min hadn't spoken to the Professor since finding out he was about to drop her. Though she'd never say as much to Minerva she was secretly pleased about it. Dumbledore was much too old for her and it wasn't as if there was a lack of lads their own age who wouldn't love to ask her out. She couldn't see the attraction herself; too much hair, and he was odd too. Half the things he said seemed to be completely random though, since Minerva always seemed to get the joke, she had assumed that his comments were simply beyond her realm of comprehension. Maybe that was what Min saw in him; didn't people say that the quickest way to a woman's heart was to make her laugh? Sweet, but he was still way, way too old for her and a one-way ticket out of Hogwarts if she got caught.

That had been the biggest shock of all. It wasn't just that Min was straight-laced and studious, she'd harboured a dream to become an Auror since third-year and would never do anything to jeopardize that ambition. She'd had her eyes on the prize for four years; how could she risk it all now? And for what? A fling? She cast her a sideways glance as they fought their way through the throng of students crowding the stairs, wondering how much she really knew about her best friend. 'Head Girl coming through, shift your asses!' she called, earning herself a dig in the ribs from Minerva.

'Got any homework?' Minerva asked hopefully.

That had to be one of the stupidest questions she'd ever heard. These days they were getting more homework in one day than they used to get in a week. Masters and Mistresses of Misery they were, not teachers. 'Why would you want to do homework when you've got the perfect excuse not to?' But she already knew the answer: Min was just weird like that. Hank Marvin for knowledge, a thirsty brain, something along those lines…

'I like to keep busy.' Busy was one thing, obsessed was another; she'd had to wrestle a text book out of her hands the night before, which admittedly had been made easier by the fact that she'd had one of those catatonic thingies mid-fight.

'Isn't that the opposite of what you've been told to do?'

'I hate sitting around doing nothing.' She moaned, reaching over a second-year's shoulder to confiscate a fanged Frisbee. The infuriated miniature Gryffindor turned as if to demand its return but seemed to shrink before their eyes upon catching sight of the Head Girl. 'So?' she asked, turning back to an amused Sephy.

'So knit a hanky, darn your pants, intimidate first-years…' her eyes followed the retreating second-year, 'intimidate the other years too. Nice, menial, non-brain-melting work.' She gave her an impeded thumbs-up. 'Now repeat after me, "Books are bad for my health except when used for kindling."'

Maybe she'd been too cheerful, Minerva was silent all the way to the portrait of the Fat Lady. 'How about a game of chess?' she suggested. 'I'll even let you win.'

'Let me win?' Minerva scoffed. 'May I remind you that you've yet to beat me?'

'No, you may not.' She said, throwing her bag into one of the best armchairs before it got nabbed. 'Guard the table, I'll grab the board and pieces.'

'Sure.' Min dropped down in the seat, propping her legs up on the table. She'd been excused from her Head Girl meeting tonight but Lucius Fargo, the Ravenclaw Head Boy, had agreed to make a copy of the minutes for her.

Persephone took the stairs two at a time, entering the brightly lit dorm room and throwing open her trunk. She found the board straight away but it took almost five minutes to locate her bag of pieces which had somehow made its way to the very bottom. She turned, jumping up and over her bed, bouncing a fluffy black cushion a foot in the air. 'Cat!' she exclaimed angrily, grabbing a pillow and knocking the now hissing feline off her bed. Maverick hit the floor and skidded out the open door. Still muttering under her breath she crossed the room and lifted Minerva's chess pieces off her dresser before returning to the common room.

'Hello, my darling.' Minerva welcomed as Maverick jumped into her lap and placed his front paws on her chest, rubbing his head against her chin. 'You're lovely and warm,' she said stroking his sleek black fur, 'You've been lying on Sephy's bed again, haven't you?' she shook her head good-naturedly.

'Yes! The mangy beast bloody well has.' Sephy pushed Minerva's legs off the table and deposited the chess board in their place.

'He is not mangy,' said Minerva, covering Maverick's ears. 'Don't listen to her. It's not like he's doing any harm,' she reasoned, feeling the beginnings of a headache behind her left eye.

'My blankets are covered in black hairs,' Sephy complained, setting up her pieces with a little more force than was absolutely necessary, causing the little characters to shake their fists up at her.

'Well maybe if you drew the curtains around your bed it wouldn't look so inviting. He's a cat, it's second nature for him to seek out warm places to sleep.' It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation and it probably wouldn't be the last. Sephy was clinging onto the insane notion that-

'I did close the curtain – he can open them!'

Minerva shook her head wearily, shifting Maverick into her lap as she leaned forward to set up her own chess pieces. 'Sephy, he's a cat,' she said firmly, as if that was the be all and end all of it.

'A very sneaky cat,' she corrected. Maverick hissed at her. 'See? He's knows I'm talking about him.'

Minerva raised her eyebrows at her. 'You're barking, you know that?'

***

'Have you spoken to her yet?'

Sara Hopkins had caught up with the Deputy Headmaster in his office after classes. 'No. No, not yet.' He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was not in the mood for another lecture; he'd given his word and that should be all that was required. 'How was Minerva today?' He hadn't seen her since escorting her back to the infirmary before breakfast yesterday .

Sara barely repressed an exasperated sigh. 'Better. Only four episodes, three of which were this morning. She's almost out of the woods,' she said with a lot more patience than she felt. 'Albus you promised me.'

'I know what I promised. I'm just waiting for the right time.' Even as he said it he knew what her response would be.

'How many times have I heard that? "Waiting for the right time?" It's never going to feel like the right time. You should have talked to her yesterday, I know she was with you,' she said accusatorially.

'I couldn't,' he admitted with a sigh, slumping back in his chair. 'You didn't see her, Sara, she was in pieces.'

She scoffed, unconvinced. 'You can't give in to her every time she turns on the waterworks.'

'It wasn't like that!' he shook his head testily. 'She isn't like that.' In seven years he had not seen her shed a single tear before yesterday. She was much too proud. The very thought that she would cry for something as blasé as exploitation was absurd and so far from the mark it was laughable. This he knew long before they had formed a romantic attachment. Minerva was better than that. 'You don't know her like I do.'

And he did know her: even if he didn't know her life story he understood the way her mind worked, her sense of humour, her passion… And after a week of second guessing himself, succumbing to nagging fear and self-recriminations, he had learned something else, watching the play of emotions as she relived their time together: somehow, someway, he made her very happy.

And that was more than he'd dared hope.

Sara pursed her lips. 'Obviously.'

A frosty silence ensued. Albus cleaned his glasses on his robes. Sara tapped her nails on the tabletop. She didn't approve and that was one thing; to imply that Minerva was somehow manipulating him was quite another and he resented the implication. He had agreed to break it off with Minerva. There was no need for the sly digs Sara kept getting in. This was already going to be difficult enough without being rushed into it.

At length Sara took a deep breath and said, with what seemed to be a great effort. 'I'm sorry. I just worry about you. You're a good man, Albus. Too good for your own good sometimes.'

It was a rare apology and Albus accepted it with a brief incline of his head. 'I'll talk to Minerva.' He promised again.

She raised her eyebrows questioningly, not entirely devoid of sympathy as she pressed tentatively, 'Tonight?'

He buried his head in his hands, scrubbing his face. 'Tonight.' He confirmed miserably.

***

Minerva had completely trounced Persephone at chess – again - and, not being allowed to so much as read her textbooks, she had settled back to watch her friends play exploding snap, the sporadic explosions doing nothing to ease her headache, Maverick purring in her lap. 'Don't you two have homework to do?'  
'Most definitely.' Nodded Mo, not looking up from the game.

Typical. Here was Minerva, willing to sacrifice an arm for an essay to write and these two were happy to sit around playing game after monotonous game of snap. 'And you're not doing it because..?'

Mo shrugged, 'We figured we could just blackmail Dumbledore into-' Sephy was quick to punch her in the arm.

'Will you keep your voice down!' hissed Minerva, looking around anxiously. Luckily most of the Gryffindors were in the Great Hall for dinner.

'All the sensitivity of a sledgehammer, you.' reproved the red-head with a warning look.

'I was joking!' laughed Mo, rubbing her arm and wondering if she should whip out a white flag.

'Yes well it wasn't funny.' Minerva snapped, rubbing her eyelids. Her eyeballs felt like two tender bruises.

Sephy looked between Minerva, who had a face like thunder, and Mo, who looked like she was deciding whether or not to snap back. 'Maybe we should go down to dinner,' she suggested, in an attempt to defuse the situation. Quite aside from the fact that Minerva was supposed to be relaxing, she'd played referee to enough of their arguments to have reason to avert another.

'You go. I'm not hungry,' said Minerva, propping her chin on her hand and staring in the opposite direction.

'We can't just leave you here on your own,' argued Sephy as the remaining students, having finished racing their pencil cases round the tables, disappeared through the portrait hole.

'My forty-eight hour observation's up in three hours. Go.' she said, waving them away as though they were annoying insects. 'I'll be fine.' Sephy shot Mo a furious look as if to say 'now look what you've done.'

'Min, I'm sorry,' Mo started to apologise but Minerva cut her off.

'It's fine, really.' She tried to keep her voice even, though the end of her fuse was in sight. 'I'm just not hungry.'

'Why don't I go down and bring something back?' suggested Mo, already halfway out of her chair. 'We can eat up here.'

'What part of "I'm not hungry" don't you understand?' she asked, voice gaining volume. 'Is it so much to ask that I be given five minutes to myself?' she all but shouted, standing up so suddenly that Maverick fell out of her lap with a reproaching miaow and stalking across the common room.

She stamped upon every step the spiral staircase had to offer as if each had personally wronged her, knowing it was childish and pointless (unless you enjoyed a tingly feeling in your feet) but wanting nothing more than to escape to the solitude of the girls' dormitory, her head pounding and mood blacker than the night sky. She was sick and tired of people's snide remarks and being 'kept an eye on'. She wasn't a baby, she hadn't even had a flashback since lunchtime so everyone could just stop bloody fussing. She slammed the dorm door and kicked her shoes off so violently that one bounced off the window while the other sent the water jug crashing to the floor.

Far from venting some of her frustration this only added to it and she made the huge mistake of kicking her trunk. She hopped on the spot, silently getting redder and redder in the face before letting rip with every single expletive that came to mind. As soon as her foot had stopped throbbing enough for her to place it gingerly on the floor she limped over to her dresser and proceeded to destroy everything she could get her hands on; books, ornaments, quills and ink, potion bottles – her oldest teddy-bear was completely disemboweled. She ripped the curtains from their rails and flipped her mattress, bedding and all, off the bed. Still not satisfied she pulled out all her drawers, throwing them high in the air until there was a positive downpour of clothes and underwear.

Finally, panting and exhausted, she slid down the wall and cradled her head in her hands.

Why was this happening to her? What had she done to deserve this? It felt as if her life was crumbling before her eyes and there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it. She'd tried telling herself that she'd done well enough without a mother until now and she'd do just as well from now on but it did nothing to soothe the wounds in her heart. She'd tried telling herself that she couldn't be angry with her father for doing something she may well have done herself in his place but she was still furious.

She tried telling herself that only two months ago she'd been perfectly content without Albus Dumbledore, she didn't need a man to make her feel complete, life would be just as good without him but the very thought of it made her chest ache so ferociously that it was difficult to breathe. How was she supposed to spend the next three months living in the same building as him, seeing him at meals, sitting through his lessons, being unable to show him how she felt?

Her education and ambition had never felt so insignificant but she knew that even if she were prepared to throw it all away Albus wouldn't let her. He had been so earnest in his desire that their relationship shouldn't interfere with her schoolwork that the idea of him allowing her to forego her N.E.W.T.'s bordered on the ridiculous. Whichever way you looked at it she didn't really have much choice in the matter.

***

Professor Dumbledore saw Persephone and Maureen enter the Great Hall alone and made a discreet exit. He doubted he would get a better opportunity. He felt Sara's gaze at his back as he left; at least somebody was satisfied with the way things had turned out. He couldn't help wondering how it would have been if none of this had ever happened, if Minerva had never come to his rooms that night… if he could go back in time would he make a different choice? Knowing what he knew now?  
His selfish gene told him that he would give in again. If he were to change anything it would be the night of the accident. He would not have performed the memory charm and no one would have been any the wiser. Minerva would not have learned the awful truth about her mother and her relationship with her father would still be intact because she would never have had to endure that cursed treatment.

Perhaps it was ridiculous for a man as old as Albus to admit, if only to himself, that the past few months meant so much, the object of his affection being so much younger. It seemed almost impossible that any one person could possess all the qualities he admired in her; what strange cosmic order had created the remarkable woman whose heart he was about to break? In all his years of teaching, she was unique. The highly intelligent were usually arrogant; the beautiful, vain; the good, blind; and the popular, small-minded. It was Minerva's obliviousness that protected her from the pitfalls of her gifts.

And utterly disarmed his defences…

The common room was empty when he got there and he debated whether or not to check the dorms. As Head of Gryffindor they were not strictly off limits to him though he'd found it was usually advisable to send a female staff-member in first to avoid any embarrassing situations.

He knocked on the door but received no answer. He opened it slowly, taking a few steps into the darkened room. 'Go away.' demanded a disembodied voice. His eyes traveled over the chaos - it looked as though several dozen packs of exploding cards had gone off at once.

'Minerva? Is that you?' he asked, moving further into the dormitory.

He heard movement to his left and turned to see Minerva's head appear from behind the toppled mattress. 'Professor Dumbledore?' she asked, attempting to scrape back the hair that had fallen out of her bun, straighten her rumpled robes. She looked dreadful he saw with an unpleasant jolt and a feeling that it was not a lack of sleep that had caused the dark circles under her eyes. She looked around at the mess she'd made, her mouth half open to give an explanation that never came. She shook her head and shrugged.

'What on earth happened in here?' he said, shutting and locking the door behind him. He added a silencing charm to be safe; it would ironic in the extreme for them to be discovered by a student just as it was all ending.

'I happened,' she admitted, pulling out her wand. 'Don't worry, I'll sort it out.' She waved her wand in one long sweeping motion and the room obediently began to put itself back together. The books lined themselves neatly on the dresser, the ink returned to its miraculously repaired bottles, the water to its jug. Teddy the teddy returned from the dead, the ornaments were whole once more and the mattress leapt back onto the bed, which remade itself as the curtains reattached themselves. She hobbled over to her bed and sank down, 'Good as new,' she pronounced, rubbing her foot. 'Albus, you can't be here. What if someone were to find us together – here?' she waved an arm at the room at large. A room with beds was, after all, no place for a student and her professor.

'Nothing wrong with me checking up on one of my students, is there?' he said mildly, looking at her over the top of his half-moon spectacles. 'Between you and me, she's been having rather a bad time of it of late.' He sat on the bed opposite, observing her with frank concern. 'What's been going on?'

'Venting.' she abbreviated. 'Something had to give and this is the first time I've been alone long enough to dismantle my possessions,' she said dispassionately.

'Did it help?' he asked, as if enquiring after the result of an interesting experiment.

She nodded thoughtfully, jutting her chin out, 'Little bit.'

'You've hurt your foot?' he inclined his head towards the appendage she was massaging.

'It's fine,' she assured him, placing it back on the floor as if to prove her point. A strange atmosphere seemed to have descended upon them. He didn't want to say it and she didn't want to hear it but they both knew there was a reason for his visit tonight. Albus wished that he could freeze time and never have to tell her. She'd already been through so much and he could hardly bear to be the messenger of more bad news… But he had given his word and could not take it back now, no matter how much he wanted to.

'I know why you're here,' she blurted suddenly, unable to stand the grim anticipation. She looked down at her hands, 'I know what you promised Madam Hopkins.' She could at least spare him having to find the words to break it to her.

If he was surprised he did not show it, though perhaps he now had a better understanding of her need to 'vent'. 'Minerva, I,' He was going to say "had no choice" but she beat him to it.

'Let me guess,' though she didn't need to; she'd heard it verbatim from Persephone. 'It was something along the lines of "Stop seeing that girl or I'll turn you in to Dippet"?' she said with angry resignation, rising from the bed and walking several paces away.

He nodded slightly, 'Something like that. She isn't being malicious. She's just doing what she believes is right.'

She opened her mouth but no noise came out. Now was, perhaps, not the best time to start ranting about her true feelings towards Madam Hopkins. It could make no difference except to make an intolerable situation worse. Squeezing one of the tall wooden bed posts until her knuckles were white, she prayed for strength before turning back to face him. She cleared her throat and tried again. 'What about when I leave school?' she asked and there was something dead about her usually fearless green eyes, as though it were a question she was asking, not out of curiosity but, simply because it needed answering.

He spread his hands, desperately trying to maintain his composure while thoughts of just staying locked in this room with her for the next ten weeks rampaged through his head. 'Then we would be free to pursue a relationship.' he answered earnestly. Light at the end of the tunnel. An abominably long tunnel.

She nodded to herself, swallowing the lump in her throat. 'So three months…' she said in a voice that tried to be offhand but was much too high to be her own.

'You'll be so busy studying for your N.E.W.T.s you'll wonder where the time went.' he said, his heart aching so badly he was surprised at how normal he sounded. 'And then… if you still feel the same way,'

She stared at him with a terrible, miserable confidence. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. 'I will.'

He tried to smile reassuringly but the weight of his emotions made even his beard droop. 'I have a pied-a-terre in Cornwall,' he said in a falsely cheery voice that quavered despite his every effort. 'Beside the sea. We could stay the whole summer.'

She held her chin up in a fruitless attempt to be brave, bottom lip trembling. 'I'll bring my swimming costume.' She pressed a hand over her eyes as the first tears spilled down her cheeks, her face crumpling. Albus stood, pulling her into his arms, fighting the desire to start crying himself.

'We'll still see each other,' he murmured into her hair, heart breaking on every word. She clung to him as if her life depended on it, a fistful of robes in each hand. 'It isn't forever.' He promised her.

'I know.' She gulped, 'I know.'

It just felt like it…

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bittersweet ending, I'm no good at pap lol. Hope you enjoyed x

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated ;) Thanks for reading! x


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